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THE MIDDY; 


OR, 


SCENES FROM THE LIFE 


OF 


/ 


EDWARD LASCELLES. 


Embarked, the sails unfurled, the light breeze blew ; 
How much has busy memory to review ! 


BrnoTf. 




IN TWO VOLUMES. 


VOL. I. 




PHILADELPHIA: 


E. L. CAREY AND A. HART. 


t 4 . 


1838. 

<so 



■ y-v* 

L'i' 1 ’- 

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\jo\- 






















MIDDY. 


' \ 

THE 


CHAPTER I. 

BOYISH DAYS. 


The summer months bring wilding shoot, 

From bud to bloom, from bloom to fruit; 

And years draw on our mortal span, 

From child to boy, from boy to man. 

Rokeby. 

It cannot be of any surpassing interest to my readers to 

know, that I was born at —-—, on the-day of —-, 

in the year-. Of my parents, who still live, I shall 

only remark, that they are such as merit in every respect 
the love and veneration of a son ; and 1 may say with,the 
venerable Archdeacon of Wilts, that had I the power of 
choosing a father and mother for myself, I would fix upon 
those whom Providence has allotted me. 

With my father I have always lived'on terms of the 
warmest friendship ; while our intimacy, on my part, has 
been tempered by that feeling of respect which should 
ever be paramount in the breast of a son, when he looks 
upon the face of his parent. II est mon pere et mon 
meilleur ami! Eternal blessings crown the honoured 
head of the indulgent protector of my infancy ; the valued 
friend of my maturer years ! 

Of the events of my childhood I cannot be supposed 
to have any very distinct recollection. The mind, during 
those tender years, may be said to resemble a glassy lake ; 
which retains for the moment a vivid picture of the objects 









4 


THE MIDDY. 


reflected on it, but from, whose surface the transient 
shadows are utterly obliterated by the first breeze that 
passes over the slumbering waters. Circumstances, indeed, 
there are, of so lasting a character, that they are never 
forgotten; and though the recollections of them often 
appear to us to be nothing more than the dreamy visions 
of fancy, still they retain to the last the vivid freshness of 
their colours, and recur from time to time, knit to the 
memory by a thousand trivial links of association. 

When 1 contemplate my somewhat dark and weather¬ 
beaten complexion, which has seen the suns of many a 
clime, and felt the hi tings of many a bitter blast; I can 
scarcely bring myself to believe that my childhood was 
nursed upon the lap of luxury ; nay, that it was even 
sunned in the rays of royalty itself. Yet such is the fact. 
My father held a situation of some importance connected 
with the royal household ; and as children, my brother and 
myself frequently resided within the ancient walls of 
Windsor. It was then that Britain was glorious beneath 
the benignant sway of the august George the Third ; and 
knit to my earliest recollections is the venerable face of 
that beloved monarch, as he would often take me on his 
knee, and peering into my tiny features through his then 
almost sightless eyes, pat me on the head, and call me 
“ his little white boy.” My brother who was considerably 
older than myself, and extremely manly for his age, he used 
to denominate, by way of distinction, “ the black.” Those 
who were much about Windsor at the time may perhaps 
recollect this brother, as a remarkably handsome child, 
who was considered one of the “ lions” of the promenade ; 
and who used often to take his station beside the band of 
the Coldstream Guards, endeavouring to accompany their 
martial strains upon his little cymbals. 

The white boy and the black! Alas, what mighty 
changes Old Time effects! The comforts of a quiet 
home, and the fostering attentions of fond friends, have 
long since blanched the bronze from Frederick’s cheek ; 
while hardships and hot climates have imparted not a little 
swarthiness to mine ! Mate n’importc. 

Of one whimsical circumstance which occurred at 
Windsor, I have still a vivid recollection. 


THE MIDDY. 


5 


At the time of which I speak, the Princess-was 

Famous for her skill in dress ; and she often appeared be¬ 
fore my wondering eyes, attired in all the gorgeous splen¬ 
dour of the court; her head adorned by a most luxuriant 
wig, whose powder-laden tresses hung gracefully over her 
shoulders. This wig was the object of my particular 
affection ; and I long watched for an opportunity of invest¬ 
ing myself with its shady honours. Accordingly, one day 
when the princess was engaged elsewhere, I stole cau¬ 
tiously into her tiring-room; and closing the door behind 
me, .commenced a search for the envied ornament. It 
was not long till I discovered the place of its repository ; 
and lifting it carefully from the gilded box in which it 
lay, I arranged it in a most courtier-like fashion on my 
head ; completing my costume by throwing a fine cloth- 
of-gold scarf across my shoulders. 

It so happened that while I was thus engaged, the 
venerable monarch, who was then in a very imbecile state, 
and used often to amuse himself with my childish prattle, 
sent one of the pages to fetch “ his little white boy.” But 
the white boy was no where to be found ; all his usual 
haunts were carefully explored, but no traces of him could 
be discovered. At length a group of searchers, at the head 
of whom was my mother, entered the tiring-room ; and 
there I was, parading with all imaginable majesty, before 
a large pier-glass; one hand retaining the folds of my 
scarf, the embroidered border of which swept gracefully 
on the ground ; and the other raised to support the capa¬ 
cious wig, and prevent it from totally obscuring my tiny 
visage. 

“ For shame, Edward,” said my mother, when she had 
somewhat recovered her surprise ; “ this is most disgrace¬ 
ful conduct; should it come to her majesty’s ears, you 
: shall certainly be severely punished.” 

“ I don’t care a straw for her majesty,” I replied, lift¬ 
ing the wig a little higher on my brow as I spoke ; “ she 
never wore such a wig as this in her life. She’s a nasty 
snuffy old woman, and wears nothing but an ugly mob- 
cap.” And darting another glance at the mirror, I strut¬ 
ted away, quite proud of my appearance. 

The joke, however, did not end here. The insolent 
J I* 






6 


THE MiDDlf. 


manner in which I had spoken of the queen was repeated, 
and I was ordered, in consequence, to be severely whip¬ 
ped ; and perhaps it was the somewhat pitiless infliction 
of this punishment that served more than any thing else 
to engrave the circumstance on my memory. 

With the history of my school-boy career I shall not 
detain you. It is nothing more than the usual chronicle 
of plots, discoveries, floggings, orchard-robbings, deser¬ 
tions, captures, and so forth, which form in general the 
most striking features of a school-boy?s life. Whenever 
there was mischief on hand, I was sure to be employed 
in it; and I would at any time have risked a severe flog¬ 
ging, extra tasks, and solitary confinement, for the pleasure 
of what we technically termed “ a lark.” Being naturally 
of a daring reckless disposition, I was for the most part 
elected the leader in deeds of danger; and I usually led 
the van of my trembling comrades, when we were ordered 
for punishment, into the dreaded presence of the master. 
And truly it required considerable firmness of nerve to 
face without tremour that stern individual, when sentence 
’ of guilty had been recorded. -Mercy he knew none ; nay, 
on some occasions, even justice and he did not pull to¬ 
gether in the same boat. I think I see him now, with his 
scowling eye, dark brow, and livid complexion, standing 
over some unfortunate comrade who was about to precede 
me in punishment; his powerful limbs displayed to the 
best advantage by the never-failing long black silk stock¬ 
ings ; and his sinewy arm brandishing the pickled birch, 
which had just been removed from beneath the salted 
junk that formed our Thursday’s dinner. With back and 
shoulders bared, lay the unlucky wight, extended trans¬ 
versely across two forms, between which stood the mus¬ 
cular flagellator ; and you may conceive my feelings were 
any thing but enviable, as I witnessed blow after blow 
descend, and heard the appaling shrieks of my miserable 
comrade. 

Much have our arch-agitators harped upon the topic of 
slavery ! I have witnessed the actual condition of the slave, 
both in our own and foreign colonies; but never have I 
seen him, even in his most degraded state, subjected to 
more brutal treatment than is daily undergone at some of 


THE MIDDY. 7 

our seminaries of education, by the scions of the best blood 
in .Britain! 

With my studies I was never very much in arrear; and 
though I could boast of being flogged oftener ana more 
severely than any boy at school, I hardly recollect an in¬ 
stance at my being so for negligence at my lessons. Ac¬ 
cordingly, I made considerable progress in classic lore, and 
used to read Homer and Catullus ad aperturam libri; no 
small boast, certainly, for a boy of twelve. Nay, such was 
my proficiency, that even the master himself, who bore me 
no good-will for the many teazing tricks I played him, 
was fain to give a tacit acknowledgment of it; and he in¬ 
variably called upon me to “ exhibit,”-whenever a stran¬ 
ger came to examine the school. After conducting his 
visiter through the different benches, and displaying the 
best specimens of writing, accounting, and so fourth ; he 
would tell him that he could boast of being more success¬ 
ful in the classics than any other branch he taught. “ I 
believe I may say, sir,” he would continue, “ there is not 
one boy in my advanced class who will not, without prepa¬ 
ration, translate any passage in Homer you choose to pre¬ 
scribe and then turning, as if by accident, to me ; 
“ Master Lascelles,” he would say, “will you stand up 
and translate the lines the gentleman has pointed out ?” 

I ceased, however, to be the show-boy shortly before 
leaving school, in rather a comical manner. 

It chanced that one very temping summer’s morning, I 
took my fishing-rod, and stole away at grev dawn to enjoy 
a few hours at my favourite sport; thinking that I could 
easily manage to be back before any of the family were 
astir. When I reached the stream, 1 found it in the most 
“ beautiful order.” A light westerly breeze curled its 
surface; and the rising sun, while it tipped the tops of the 
trees and high-brown banks on either side, left the dark 
waters beneath in a state of most propitious obscurity.— 
Following old Isaac’s rule, I fished my stream by inches ; 
the trout rose eagerly at my fly, and afforded such excel¬ 
lent sport, that I quite forgot to “mark the lagging foot of 
time;” and when at last I returned home, 1 found my 
companions already entering the school-room. 

To be absent a whole morning without leave was an un- 


8 


THE MIDDY. 


pardonable offence; and I felt my skin grow somewhat] 
tight for me, when I saw the doctor enter, with a dark 
frown upon his brow, and the awful pickled birch in his 
hand. Since I had been caught, as it were, in the fact, 
and there was sufficient overt proof of my guilt, I was not 
allowed the benefit of an investigation, but ordered to strip 
on the instant. Two benches were drawn forward to the 
middle of the room ; I was stretched with bared back 
across them, and the pitiless pedagogue dealt me fifty of 
his severest blows in rapid succession; then lifting me up 
by the arm, and giving me a shake that made me stagger, 
he said he would “ teach me to go a-fishing again of a 
morning !” 

Scarcely had I donned my coat, and resumed my seat, 
when the servant entered in great haste, and announced 
that a strange gentleman had arrived to visit the school.— 
Quick as thought the rod was hid, and the forms shoved 
back to their places ; and, when the visitor entered, the 
angry frown upon the doctor’s face was exchanged for 
such gracious smiles, that he looked for all the world like 
the benignant Father in Raphael’s Holy Family. The 
usual routine of exhibition was now gone through, and a 
due meed of praise adhibited; when coming up to me, 
and patting me, in the most kindly way, upon the head, 

“ Edward, my dear,” he said, “ will you translate a pas¬ 
sage of the gentleman’s choosing ?” 

My back Was smarting grievously at the moment, and 
I could feel the warm drops of blood trickling down be¬ 
tween my skin and my shirt. I believe I may safely say 
that my disposition is not naturally either dogged or vin¬ 
dictive ; but I shuddered at the loathsome touch of the 
hypocritical tyrant, and inwardly vowed revenge. 

The passage selected was the well-known ode of Hor¬ 
ace, commencing 

Parcus deorum cultor, et infrequens 

Insanientis dum. sapientia? 

Consultus erro; 

and I could perceive a triumphant smile on the doctor’s 
face as it was named ; for he knew that none could have 
been chosen which was more familiar to me. His sur- 


THE MIDDY. 


9 


prise, therefore, may be imagined, when I commenced 
reading, in my most monotonous tone ; blundering in the 
quantity at every word. It was in vain that he frowned, 
and bit his lip, and pinched my toes, and warned me, 
with a sharp “pay attention, sir;” on I stammered, with 
the most dogged incorrigibility. His dark eye flashed 
with anger; his shaggy brows began to corrugate; the 
book trembled in his hand ; his whole frame shook with 

•r 

passion ; and when I filled up the sum of my misconduct, 
by commencing to translate in the following classic lan¬ 
guage—“ The park of the gods, not unfrequently cultivat¬ 
ed”—he completely lost all command of himself; dashed 
the book from his hand ; gave a stamp with his foot that 
made the wall shake ; and, clenching his fist, struck me a 
blow that speedily laid me senseless on the floor. The 
result of the affair I never witnessed. When sensation 
returned, I found myselfin bed, in a state of burning fever. 

Scarcely was I well recovered from the effects of this 
illness, when I was engaged in another frolic, which ended 
in my being finally removed from school. 

It chanced that one of the boys was the son of a gen¬ 
tleman who resided within about four miles of the town; 
and who was possessed of a handsome manor, well stocked 
with all sorts of game; and a garden filled with a great 
variety of fine fruit. To make a regular storm of the 
premises, and have a day's beating in the cover and revel** 
ing in the orchard, had long been projected; but we had 
never been able to accomplish our design, owing to the 
dread our comrade entertained of encountering his father 
when engaged in such an overt act of rebellion. At length 
the fortunate concurrence of a whole holiday, and the ab¬ 
sence of the gentleman in London, gave us an opportunity of 
carrying our plans into execution. Accordingly, we made 
our arrangements, and started, five in number; the heir- 
apparent of the devoted manor at our head. 

It was a beautiful morning, in beautiful June. The sun 
had been up about an hour; and the dew-covered herbs 
and trees glanced cheerfully in the golden light. Away 
we trudged, gay in spirits, and buoyant'with the expecta¬ 
tion of a grand day’s sport; threading our way through 
plantations, topping fences, and scouring fields; for we 


10 THE MIDDY. 

scorned to plod, like every-day mortals, along the parched 
and dusty highway. 

To our youthful spirits the scene was beyond descrip¬ 
tion exhilarating. Every pass that was more inaccessible, 
every leap that was more difficult than another, we were 
sure to choose; dashing forward, to the infinite danger of 
our persons, and the detriment of our clothes, with the 
spirit-stirring cry of “ Follow the leader!” To lend a 
hand to some unlucky comrade, as he slid down a preci¬ 
pice, or, missing his leap, found himself immersed in the 
water he intended to clear, caused us frequent delays. 
From these mishaps, however, none of us were totally 
disabled. A few scratches, cuts, and bruises, formed the 
amount of our misfortunes ; and for these we were amply 
compensated, when, after a circuitous walk of three hours, 
we at length discovered the mansion-house of the demesne 
we intended to honour; its white minarets “bosomed 
high mid turfted trees,” glancing merrily in the ray's of 
the morning sun. 

lo make our devoirs in the drawing-room, did not, of 
course, form any part of our plans; so, following the di¬ 
rections of our guide, we pushed away in a sinuous direc¬ 
tion for the dog-kennel. The nam^s of several of the 
dogs, pronounced by the well-known voice of the young 
master, soon gave rise to such boisterous notes of recog¬ 
nition from within, that, trembling for our incognito, we 
rushed forward to open the gates, and set the growling 
captives free. Firm and fast, however, was every door 
and wicket locked. It was in vain that we attempted to 
shake them open ; the more we shook, the more noisy 
grew the canine inmates; till at last the hubbub was loud 
enough to have shaken the very walls of the keeper’s 
house, and roused the Cerberus, “ slumbered he never so 
soundly.” There was not a moment to be lost; discovery, 
at this critical juncture, would have been ruin. 

It chanced that some carpenters had been engaged the 
previous day in preparing beams for roofing a small phea- 
santry, several of which were lying scattered around. In 
an instant one of the heaviest of these was swinging in our 
hands; a short run, a hearty push ; open flew the main 
door; out rushed a motley group of pointers, spaniels. 


THE MIDDY. 


11 


greyhounds, retrievers, cockers, and terriers ; and in a 
few minutes we were all hidden deep in the recesses of 
the neighbouring cover. 

Guns we had none, nor did we for a moment feel the 
want of them. Sufficient was it for us that a set of fine 
dogs were scouring about before us, and obeying our word 
of command ; it was a sight that inspired us with a proud 
consciousness of manhood. The difficulties, too, we had 
to encounter, in forcing our way through the tough tangled 
branches of prickly brambles, and the sharp thorns of 
dense furze, were not without their charms. The very 
circumstance of hearing ourselves call out, “ Cock! Cock! 
Mark!” and so forth, as we had often heard our fathers 
do, was delightful. And then the pheasants and partrid¬ 
ges that were flying about in all directions ; greyhounds 
chasing hares, which they speedily lost in the thicket; 
retrievers plunging through the lake, in pursuit of young 
water-fowl; terriers grubbing at the entrances of rabbit 
holes; pointers and setters standing over hidden game; 
and the little cocker’s bell, tinkling cherrily among the 
brushwood ; all formed a scene that realised our most 
anxious expectations, and placed us, for the time, in an 
elysium of happiness. 

As we anticipated, however, the noise which the dogs 
made, on our first arrival at the kennel, had roused the 
watchful keeper; and his astonishment may be conceived 
when he found the door broken open, and every indi¬ 
vidual of his charge away. It was in vain that he inquired 
at the other servants ; their astonishment was equal to his 
own ; and no one could give him any information that 
might lead to the detection of the robbers. His only 
resource, therefore, was to follow the prints of the dogs’ 
feet; which as the dew was still on the grass, he could do 
with considerable certainty ; and when he had once 
traced us to the forest, the broken boughs of the trees, and 
empty shells of eggs; served as an excellent guide for his 
further progress. 

We were busily engaged, at the sedgy corner of the 
wood embosomed lake, sending out spaniels and retrievers 
in search of young wild ducks, when through a long alley 
or vista of the forest, we descried the portly figure of Old 




12 


THE MIDDY. 


Peter bearing down full upon us. This was a sad con¬ 
summation, and there was nothing for it but swiftness of 
limb. Starting from the water, in which most of us were 
plunging middle-deep, we called off the dogs, and hied 
away, at the top of our speed, in the opposite direction. 
It was necessary, however, that we should surmount the 
high bank of the lake, in order to secure our retreat; and 
we were in this elevated position when the practised eye 
of Peter caught a glimpse of our party, dogs and all. 
Presently we heard the shrill note of the whistle. The 
dogs pricked up their cars at the well-known sound ; 
looked back : and, recognising the old man, darted off 
with the most impetuous alacrity to join him ; utterly heed¬ 
less of all the threats and entreaties we employed to detain 
them. 

Our practice of the “ noble art of venery,” was thus 
put an end to for the day, but this was no reason why we 
should give up the other parts of our sport; and accord- 
ingly, making a feint so as to leave old Peter to conclude 
that we were clear off, we turned sharp round, and fol¬ 
lowing a somewhat circuitous route, soon found ourselves 
in the vicinity of the hen-roosts. Here we commenced a 
system of regular pillage ; and it was not long before we 
had secured every egg and chicken that we could con¬ 
veniently lay our hands on. 

Laden with booty, a council was now held as to the 
propriety of beating a retreat ; but. how was it possible to 
pass the outside of the garden wall, with the chimney-tops 
of the vinery staring us full in the face, and the branches 
of some lofty fruit trees waving temptingly in the sunshine? 
A few steps up a pruning ladder ; a light vault; and we 
stood within the precincts of the garden. AH was hushed 
as death ; notan individual garden within hail. Softly 
and steadily we crept into the hot-house, and bagged a 
quantity of unripe grapes and hard peaches. A circuit 
of the gooseberry and currant bushes completed our tour * 
and we were fortunate enough to make our exit by an 
open door ; undiscovered and laden with an infinite vari¬ 
ety of spoil. 

With spirits by no means so exuberant, and corporal 
vigour somewhat subdued, we now found ourselves on our 




THE MIDDY. 


13 


way back to school. Our pleasure was past; certain 
punishment was to come. Faint and wearily we trudged 
along the very highway we had so scornfully despised in 
the morning; and, arriving at our destination, were not a 
little dismayed to find the gates locked and the porter 
gone. To climb the wall was therefore our only resource; 
and what was a twelve-foot wall with good niches, to men 
who had already braved so many dangers ! Being reck¬ 
oned the best scaler, I mounted first; and having assisted 
the rest to reach the top, we all easily dropped from thence 
into the yard beneath. Our descent, however, was not 
managed so cautiously but that it alarmed the vigilant 
watch-dog, who accordingly, as in duty bound, commen¬ 
ced a deep-mouthed incessant baying. It was in vain that 
we attempted to pacify him; the more we coaxed, the 
louder he barked ; till at length the uproar became so tre¬ 
mendous that the porter hurried from his booth, with a 
lighted torch in his hand, to ascertain the cause of the 
alarm. 

To have won over the good-natured old Richard, would 
have been no very difficult task; but our wits were brought 
fairly au comble, when we descried the tall figure of the 
doctor issue from the house, and hurry to the scene ol ac¬ 
tion. There we stood, at once guilty and condemned ; 
our hard-earned booty lying at our feet, and our dew-cov¬ 
ered habiliments glancing in the red glare of the blazing 
torch. The brows of the pedagogue gathered black and 
stormy; and there was a vindictive smile upon his lips 
that boded heavy retribution. 

“ So, I’ve caught you, have I, you robber rascals !” he 
cried. “ Off ! off to your rooms ; you shall hear more 
of this to-morrow!” 

Early in the morning, accordingly, we were ordered up 
for punishment; and underwent, as usual, a round of 
most severe flagellation. In addition to the pains of the 
birch, I, as ringleader, w r as sentenced to one week’s soli¬ 
tary confinement in my room; and I received, moreover, 
the pleasant intelligence that my father should certainly 
be informed of every thing that had passed. 

It was on the third day of my captivity, as I was sitting 
at my table, puzzling myself in the preparation of the 

VOL. I.—2 


14 


THE MIDDY. 


tasks that were allotted me, and brooding over the evil 
destiny that brought me into so many scrapes, when I 
was startled by the unwonted sound of wheels ; and run¬ 
ning to the window, I caught a glimpse of my father’s 
carriage as it drove up to the door. Here then was a con¬ 
summation to all my miseries. I was pretty certain that 
the vindictive pedagogue would report nothing but the 
worst edition of the story; and if so, what had I not to 
expect from the displeasure of my offended parent. The 
pain of the birch I could endure, but at the bare idea of 
seeing my father angry, I trembled; for mild and indul¬ 
gent though he was in general, he was a man “ that in 
his wrath was terrible.” It was the first time in my life 
that I had ever felt afraid to meet him ; and there was 
something indescribably painful in the feeling. 

At length I heard his step upon the stair; it entered the 
corridor ; the door of my room opened ; and in he stepped, 
with his usual upright form, and measured martial stride. 
As soon as he entered, my eye caught his; but there 
was no frown upon his brow, his lips smiled as sweetly 
as ever, and there was a look of even more than 
usual kindness in his countenance. That look it was 
impossible to resist; I sprang from my seat and rushed 
into his arms. With all the warmth of a father he re¬ 
turned my embrace; and patting me affectionately on 
the head, “ Well, Ned,” he said, “ I have a sad account 
of you from your master. But never be afraid, my boy ; 

I don’t believe a word of it. I always thought him an 
ill-tempered sour rascal; and I blame myself for leaving 
you so long in his clutches. But never mind; it’s all 
over now ; and I have news that I think will make up to 
you for all that has happened.” 

He drew a paper from his pocket as he spoke, and put 
it in my hand. It was a midshipman’s appointment in the 
royal navy ; a situation for which, much against his own 
inclination and the wishes of the rest of the family, I had 
long been soliciting him to apply; and I now thanked 
him warmly for having thus unexpectedly acceded to my 
wishes; protesting that it was the only profession to which 
I was warmly inclined, and that he had made me the hap¬ 
piest person in the world. 





THE MIDDY. 


15 


“ Well, well,” he replied, “ we will speak of that ano¬ 
ther time. At present proceed to pack up your things 
with all possible despatch, for you shall go home with me 
to-day !” 

You may believe I was not tardy in complying with 
this request. Books, clothes, fishing-tackle, and cricket- 
bats ; with an endless assortment of other varieties, were 
huddled together into my trunk with the greatest celerity ; 
and in a few minutes we were ready to start. 

“ Well, sir,” said the master, as we were taking leave, 
“ I congratulate you on having got the lad appointed to 
the navy. It is the only thing that can ever do him good; 
I only fear it is come too late.” 

“ Much obliged to you, sir,” replied my father, sharply, 
“ for giving the boy so fair a character. Of course we 
are bound to ascribe all his good qualities to the praise¬ 
worthy exertions of his preceptor. Come, Ned, my boy, 
jump up; good morning to you, sir!” and the next mi¬ 
nute we were snugly seated in the carriage ; rolling along 
to the old and much-loved manor-house. 

The time I had to spend with my family was limited ; 
as my father intimated that it would be necessary for me 
in the beginning of the week following to start for Chat¬ 
ham, where the ship to which I was appointed was fitting 
out. Eagerly were the few days I had to remain em¬ 
ployed by my mother and sisters in attempting to per¬ 
suade me to renounce the idea of going to sea. Every 
argument that affection or ingenuity could suggest was 
used. The horrors of the tempest were painted in the 
most vivid colours : with all its accompaniments of thun¬ 
der and lightning, and rent rigging, and shivered masts, 
and the labouring ship tossed to and fro among waves far 
higher than the Malvern Mountains. I was told of the 
oppressive usage practised by the captain and officers oil 
the poor midshipmen ; how they were oftimes confined 
like eagles on the pinnacle of the mast, and kept there for 
Weeks together without food; how they were obliged, 
during the cold bleak night, to walk alone up and down 
the pitch-dark deck ; how, if they chanced to fall asleep 
on their posts, they were tied by the neck, and flogged 
for a whole blessed hour without stopping; how they 




16 


THE MIDDY. 


got nothing to eat but great round lumps of unboiled salt 
beef; and how they had to sleep in a bag not much big¬ 
ger than a Carlisle peck. But it was all in vain. The 
appointment had been procured at my own urgent request, 
and nothing on earth could now tempt me to relinquish it. 

At length the day of my departure arrived ; and steeling 
my heart as well as possible, in order that no tear should 
be seen, or sigh heard, which might be construed into 
repentance, I went through the parting scene with a tol¬ 
erably unconcerned demeanour, and started in company 
with my father for Chatham. 











V 











THE MIDDY - . 


17 


CHAPTER II. 

MY SHIPMATES. 

The breezes freshen, and with friendly gales 

Kind Phoebus fills the wide-distended sails ; 

Cleft by the rapid prow, the waves divide, 

* And in hoarse murmurs break on either side. 

.Tickel. 

Our first care on arriving at Chatham was to wait on 
the port-admiral, who was a very old friend of my father. 
We were most kindly received. 

“ So you’re appointed to the Hesperus, young gentle¬ 
man,” he said to me"; “ the Happy Hesperus? Well, I 
wish you joy. To say you sail under Captain Morley, is 
to boast of having one of the finest fellows in the service 
for your commander. I hope,” he continued, turning to 
my father, “ you have no engagement for this evening ; I 
expect Morley to dinner, and shall be very happy if you 
and your son can join the party.” My father expressed 
his readiness to do so; and after a little farther conversa¬ 
tion, we took our leave. 

To a raw boy not ten days from school, the idea of dining 
with a man of the port-admiral’s consequence was not a 
little formidable; however, I made no complaints, but 
slipping on my silk stockings, drove down with my father 
at the time appointed. On our arrival, we were ushered 
into a large and elegantly furnished room ; but, much to 
my relief, found none of the company assembled. Soon 
after we had seated ourselves, the port-admiral entered, 
dressed in full uniform ; his wife, a most beautiful woman, 
leaning on his arm. It is not to be supposed that Dr. 
Birch’s* flaggeliatory system of education was altogeth¬ 
er the best calculated for producing Chesterfields; so after 
shaking hands with the admiral, and being presented to his 
lady, I made very little scruple of turning round and pro- 

* Not Dr. Birch of Rugby. 

%* 





THE MIDDY. 


18 

ceeding to examine a splendid engraving of the battle of 
La Hogue which was hanging on the wall. One after an¬ 
other the company arrived ; and each time the door opened 
I felt a sort of nervous trepidation lest the dreaded captain 
should be ushered in. At length I did hear the servant 
announce in a loud articulate tone, “ Captain Morley ! 
Rivetted on the door-way, as he entered, were my anxious 
eyes; and certainly they encountered no very appalling 

spectre. ' 

Captain Morley was a man apparently between thirty- 
five and forty years of age ; rather above than under the 
middle size ; with a remarkably intelligent expression of 
countenance, dark sparkling eyes, fine auburn hair, and a 
complexion bronzed, more perhaps by hard service than 
by nature. Round his lips and eyes there played a pecu¬ 
liarly pleasing smile,which I afterwards found was habitual; 
evidently not one of those smiles, by which the poet tells 
us the cheek may be tinged 

Though the cold heart to ruin run darkly the while ; 

but such a smile as beams in its loveliness on the face only 
of the kind and benevolent. His figure was powerful and 
gracefully formed ; and his well-turned and athletic limbs 
v/ere displayed to advantage by the long white silk stock¬ 
ings which constituted, at that time, an essential part of 
the full-dress naval costume. Altogether there was some¬ 
thing about his appearance extremely prepossessing. He 
was one of those enviable men whom a person cannot help 
liking at first sight. 

As soon as he had paid his devoirs to the principal per¬ 
sons in the room, I was led up to him in a most formal 
manner by the worthy admiral, and introduced as one of 
his midshipmen. Awkwardness and mauvaise lionte caus¬ 
ed me at first to feel not a little nervous before him ; but. 
the gentle kindness of his manner, and the affability of his 
address soon restored my confidence, and made me feel 
quite at ease in his presence. The evening was spent in 
a course of most agreeable conversation, during which I 
performed the part of a delighted listener ; and my father 
and I returned to our hotel, charmed in every respect with 
the gallant commander. 


THE MIDDY. 


19 


Next day was spent in making the necessary arrange¬ 
ments ; and on the succeeding morning I shook hands with 
my father, and went on board. 

At first, every thing went on tolerably well ; I found 
my brother middies, on the whole, very agreeable; and as 
a mark of kindness to the “ young bear,” 1 was invited to 
dine in the gun-room with the officers. Towards evening, 
however, it was evident that some plot was hatching ; for 
when I came up from the gun-room I observed a great 
deal of whispering, winking and nodding going on amongst 
the “ youngstersall of which, I was satisfied from the 
significant glances I encountered, referred to me. I, how¬ 
ever, took no notice of anything, but began to chat away, 
quite unconcernedly, upon indifferent topics; and it was 
not long till I overheard one of them whisper something to 
another, in which I thought I could distinguish the words 
“ his hammock.” Upon this hint I acted ; and having 
walked the deck till all the rest were “turned in,” I slipped 
gently to my berth ; removed the bed-clothes ; and car¬ 
rying them to a snug corner of the deck, lay very content¬ 
edly down to sleep. 

. I had not been long in this situation when I heard one 
of the midshipmen leave his bed ; and presently, by the 
light of the moon, I descried him, gliding stealthily in his 
night-shirt towards my empty hammock, with a large 
clasp-knife open in his hand. Of his design I could not 
form the most remote idea; but the circumstances were 
certainly sufficient to give rise to strange surmises. Cau¬ 
tiously, and on tip-toe, he crept along till he reached the 
hammock ; then stretching upwards his armed hand, he 
suddenly severed the cords by which it was suspended, 
and down upon the deck it came with a heavy fall. This 
accomplished, he closed the knife and returned to bed; 
laughing and chuckling all the way as he passed along. 
When all was again quiet, I got up ; knotted my lanyards ; 
and hanging up my prostrate hammock, got into it, and 
soon fell fast asleep. 

In the morning all the middies flocked round, and asked 
me jeeringly how I had spent the night. 

“ Extremely well on deck,” I replied, “ until you per¬ 
formed the ceremony of cutting down my hammock ; and 


20 


THE MIDDlf. 


very snugly in my hammock, when I had once more got 
it securely hung.” 

This trick procured for me the soubriquet of “ Wide 
awake,” by contraction “ Widoe;” an appellation which 
adhered to me afterwards in every ship in which I served. 

Whilst we continued hulked at Chatham, time went on 
dully enough; and what rendered matters worse, the captain 
not being come on board, we were left under the command of 
the first lieutenant; without exception one of the most disa¬ 
greeable fellows that ever trod a quarter-deck. No man 
could have been found more thoroughly calculated to 
create disgust at the profession than Mr. Settler. He 
was a tall, stout, heavy-made man ; with a hard-featured 
plebeian face, long lank sandy hair, yellow freckled com¬ 
plexion, thin red whiskers, and sleepy grey eyes. In the 
general expression of his countenance there was some¬ 
thing extremely forbidding. It seemed to indicate a most 
unpropitious mixture of low cunning, bad temper, ill- 
breeding, and overbearing arrogance ; just such a counte¬ 
nance, in short as that to which Martial applied the cele¬ 
brated line, 

Rem magnam prsestas, Zoile, si bonus es.* 

Although utterly disqualified, both by nature and educa¬ 
tion, for moving in the sphere of a gentleman, he was 
constantly endeavouring to act the great man, and to impress 
others with a magnificent idea of his importance. Thus, 
though it was pretty generally understood on board that 
he was the son of no more dignified a personage than a 
small west-country farmer, he was never done talking about 
the splendid pack of fox-hounds his father kept in Shrop¬ 
shire ; and of the exquisite equestrianism of his aunt Diana ; 
who had frequently, he said, in a close run field, taken 

the lead of Lord-himself. Towards his inferiors he 

was tyrannical and overbearing; towards his superiors 
dogged and sullen. He was at once detested and despised 
by all. r . 

The mission on which he despatched me, the second 
evening after my arrival on board, will serve to illustrate 
his character. 

* With every symptom of a knave complete, 

Should’st thou be honest, thou’rt a dev’lish cheat. 





THE MIDDY. 


21 

I happened to be on duty during the second dog-watch* 
and had just been relieved, when I met Mr. Settler coining 
up from the captain’s cabin. 

“ Mr. Lascelles, sir, - ” he said, “ you will immediately 
take the second gig with four men, and proceed to the 
quay main-stairs. When there, see that you don’t quit 
your post for an instant; but lie close in at the landing- 
place, until the arrival of a friend of mine, whom you are 
to bring on board. You will recognise the individual by 
the pass-word ‘ Stand clear.” Despach, sir; and on your 
peril show your lubberly face here without having accom¬ 
plished your errand. 

It was a wet gusty night; and the misty twilight had 
given place to total darkness, when we pulled up to the 
quay. A dim, solitary lamp, which twinkled at the top 
of the landing-place, threw a narrow stream of glistening 
light down the wet steps ; scarcely tipping with its tiny 
beams the ledge of the boat and more prominent parts of 
our figures. A few watermen still plied their craft up 
and down the river; and served somewhat to relieve the 
monotony of the scene, by the frequent and warm alter¬ 
cations that ensued as they jostled against each other in 
the dark. On the quay not an individual was stirring. 
The rain descended in torrents, and was driven bitterly 
against us by intermittent gusts of eddying wind. We 
wrapped our pea-jackets closely round us ; drew our hats 
over our brows ; and folding our arms on our breasts, sat 
in dogged resignation, still and motionless. Twice since 
our arrival had the bell of the dockyard clock warned us 
of the lapse of another hour; and still no appearance of 
our charge. To think of leaving the place without him, 
however, was in vain; I knew too well what I had to 
expect from Mr. Settler, if I dared so far to disobey his 
orders. To continue in waiting was our only alternative ; 
even though it should be till morning. 

Towards half-past eleven o’clock, the rain ceased; we 
shook the water from our clothes, and continued sitting in 

patient expectation” for another tedious half-hour; but 
still no tidings of our tarrying passenger. At length, 

* The second dog-watch continues from six to eight in the evening. 



22 


THE MIDDY. 


amid the universal stillness, we thought we heard the sound 
of an approaching footstep. Nearer and nearer it came ; 
and presently we were hailed by a somewhat rough but 
not strong voice. 

“ Boat, ahoy!” 

“ Hilloa !” I replied; and immediately, to our utter sur¬ 
prise, a middle-aged female, arrayed in a dress of rusty silk, 
and carrying a ponderous umbrella in her hand, descended 
the stairs. 

“ Pull closer to the steps, you young spalpeen, will 
you, and take me on board.” 

“ We have no directions to take you on board,” I re¬ 
plied ; “ pray, who are you, madam?” 

“What the devil’s that to you?” cried the lady 
“ Stand clear, you Lilliput, or I’ll drive you into the wa¬ 
ter, 1 will;” and, with a light spring, she suddenly threw 
herself into the boat; and the next moment was snugly 
seated alongside myself in the stern sheets. “ Now, pull 
away, my boys; we’ll have a glass of grog together when 
we meet on shore. Stand dear's the word ! Stretch out, 
you lubbers !” The men lay to their oars ; and, in a few 
minutes, we delivered our lair cargo in charge to the en¬ 
amoured and amiable lieutenant. 

Mr. Settler, however, was the only exception ; in our 
other officers we were extremely fortunate. The second 
lieutenant, Mr. Strangways, who has, I believe, been de¬ 
signated elsewhere “ the straight-forward fellow,” was a 
gentleman by birth and in feeling; a gallant officer; gen¬ 
erous and gentle in his disposition; brave almost to reck¬ 
lessness ; famed for his great activity in emergencies, and 
his daring in danger. At the time of which I speak, he 
was a man about twenty-nine years of age ; with a dark 
complexion, fine features, an extremely pleasant expres¬ 
sion of countenance, slight, but very athletic figure, and 
taper aristocratic hands. His favourite amusement, when 
in a lounging humour, was sitting in the gun-room, or in 
his own cabin, with an old fiddle in his hand; which, 
though often reduced to the desperation of one string, lie 
still caused to discourse most eloquent music. With offi¬ 
cers and men, at sea and on shore, Strangways was a 
universal favourite. 


THE MIDDY. 


23 


Our third lieutenant, Mr. Wetherall, a big stout man, 
; about forty-five years of age, had nothing very remarkable 
t about him; except that he was good-natured, cheerful, 
obliging, and unassuming. As a midshipman, he had been 
taken prisoner in France, and confined for several years in 

• a French dungeon; a captivity of which he was very fond 
of narrating the history. He was a good steady officer, 

:i and always at his post. 

Our marine officer, Mr. Granger, was a remarkably 
i spruce, gentlemanly little fellow, about twenty-six years 
ot age ; very nice in his dress, and somewhat effeminate 

• in his habits ; constantly complaining of the discomforts 
oi the ship, the state of the weather, and so forth. He 

• was, however, an extremely good-hearted friendly fellow ; 
and not devoid of talent, in his own peculiar way. Strang- 
ways usually denominated him “ his jolly little sea-troop.” 

The Master, Mr. Black, was a strong-built, round little 
man, about forty-two; an excellent sailor, but apt to get a 
little testy if any one presumed to differ from him on 
points of nautical tactics. His usual mode of closing an 
argument in which he was worsted, was by striking his 
fist on the table, and calling out, “ Steward, bring me a 

glass of grog; d-n this!” He was possessed of a 

great deal more general information than usually falls to 
the lot of officers of his rank ; but, notwithstanding this, 
he had by no means divested himself of the many petty 
prejudices which are said to characterise the profession. 
He could not, for example, endure to hear any one whistle 
on board; and the maltreatment of a cat would drive him 
furious. The whistlers he generally endeavoured to 
silence by the significant question, “ Haven’t we enough 
of wind already, think ye, sir?” 

In the person of the jolly little Mr. Sands, we possessed 
the very prince of pursers. He was a short man, of an 
extremely stout square make, with a bald shining head, 
large black whiskers, round pleasant countenance, and 
merry sparkling black eyes. Unlike the generality of men 
in his station he was extremely well-bred and gentlemanly 
in his demeanour; liberal in his sentiments, and refined 
in his tastes; and, as a consequence of all these good 
qualities, a particular favourite of every one on board, and 



24 


THE MIDDY. 


a great intimate of the captain. On his face there was. 
invariably, a pleased, good-humoured smile; and you 
might hear him, in all weathers, trolling forth some fa¬ 
vourite song as he sat in the cabin making up his books. 
The fiercer the blast blew, the louder rose the mellow 
pipe of the jolly Sands. 

The boatswain, Mr. Parsons, was a fine bluff-looking 
seaman, who was fond of asserting the dignities of his 
office, and used to call the fore-castle his quarter-deck. 
“ Get you to your quarter-deck,” he would sometimes say. 
good-naturedly, to a lounging middy, “ get you to your 
quarter-deck; I’m on mineT’ He was, with all this, 
however, an excellent sailor, and extremely civil and 
obliging. 

As for our midshipmen, they were, for the most part, 
very fine fellows ; though there are, of course, exceptions 
to every general rule. On the whole, we were certainly ex¬ 
tremely fortunate ; and such was the harmony and good- 
fellowship which throughout prevailed among our officers, 
that the ship was universally known in the service by the 
name of “ The Happy Hesperus.” 

In the course of about a week after my arrival on board, 
our fitting out being completed, we left the Medway, and 
proceeded to Portsmouth. While here, the crew received 
two months’ pay in advance ; and, in consequence of this, 
it became necessary to use every possible precaution to 
prevent desertion. A few days after our arrival at Ports¬ 
mouth, we again weighed, and sailed for Cowes ; and 
during this short trip a circumstance occurred, which, 
though of no great importance in itself, had nearly ended 
in my being dismissed the service. 

On the morning that we left Spithead, I was ordered to 
take the jolly-boat with four men, to bring some holy¬ 
stones^ from Southsea beach. Before starting on this 
mission, I had strict injunctions given me to see that none 
of my crew deserted while on shore; and truly, when I 
contrasted my own puny figure with the muscular frames 
of the great stalwart fellows I had to control, the post 

* A sort of soft porous stone, used in scrubbing the decks, over 
which sand and water are first sprinkled. 





THE MIDDY. 


23 

seemed one of not a little peril. However, I put a bold 
face on the matter; and, seating myself at the helm, we 
left the ship, and soon arrived at our destination. The 
taking in of the stones was pretty heavy work, and kept 
-us all fagging severely for a couple of hours ; two men and 
myself on shore gathering the masses from the beach, and 
two stowing them away in the boat. At length, when the 
cargo was completed, I jumped on board; ordering the 
two men who had been gathering to push off the boat and 
follow me. 

“ Indeed, master,” said one of them, “ we’ll push off 
the boat for you, and welcome ; but as to following you, 
the devil a foot of ours ’ll ever touch the main-deck of the 
Hesperus again.” 

“ Then, it that be the case, Jack,” rejoined one of the 
fellows in the boat, “ it’s never Jem and myself that are 
going back alone. Is it, Jem ?” 

“ I be d-d if it be,” said Jem, sullenly ; as he very 

coolly began to resume the jacket, which he had thrown 
aside for convenience in working. 

I found there was not a moment to be lost. Starting 
from the place I had taken at the tiller, I rushed forward ; 
drew my dirk ; and placing one foot firmly on the gun¬ 
wale of the boat, I raised my weapon in the air, and de¬ 
clared I would stab the first man who attempted to leave 
me. The two who were on the beach, taking alarm, I 
suppose, at the sight of the bare weapon, gave the boat a 
sudden push. Like a duck she slid into the water, and 
in an instant was out of soundings. The wind was from 
the shore, the tide favourable ; and, setting all sail, we 
speedily made the ship, which was by this time dropping 
down to Cowes. 

On my arrival on board, I was severely taken to task 
for allowing the two men to escape; and I believe it was 
for some time seriously under consideration whether or 
not I should be forthwith dismissed the service for such 
an offence. That I was not, was looked upon as an act 
of great leniency exercised towards me, on account of my 
youth and inexperience. For my own part,. I never could 
understand how, under such circumstances as I have de« 

vol. i.—3 



26 


THE MIDDY. 


scribed, a boy of thirteen could possibly prevent four 
strong grown men from deserting, if they thought proper 
to do so. And yet there are few naval men who will not 
say that I might have prevented them, had I been suffi¬ 
ciently vigilant. 


r 



. 












THE MIDDY. 


27 


■ 

, . ' / . 

jlfty - * 

CHAPTER III. 

A FIRE. 

-the fire, and cracks 

Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune 

Seemed to ’siege, and make his bold waves tremble ; 

Yea, his dread trident shake. 

The Tempest. 

At Cowes, on the 27th July, 18 —, we finally weigh¬ 
ed, and left the white cliff’s of Old England for the dark 
waters of the Atlantic. With a pleasant breeze we dropp¬ 
ed down the Channel, and soon lost sight of land. The 
“ world of waters was now our home and at first, I 
must confess, I found it a very cheerless and solitary re¬ 
sidence. Away we bore, sometimes in tempest, sometimes 
in calm; touching at the lovely shores of Teneriffe, and 
steering for the lone isle of St. Helena; where we were 
to receive instructions as to our ultimate destination. 

It was on a lovely autumn evening, in nine degrees 
south latitude, and three east longitude, that we were go¬ 
ing steadily along, at the rate of six or seven knots ; a 
moderate breeze upon our larboard quarter. All around, 
the usual indications of continued fine weather were ob¬ 
servable. The soft undulated surface of the water was 
slightly curled ; the sky overhead was clear and cloud¬ 
less ; and the declining rays of the evening sun diffused 
over the western horizon a broad flood of ruddy light. 

The sentinel had struck two bells of the second dog¬ 
watch ;* groups of the men were assembled on the fore¬ 
castle, to enjoy the genial serenity of the evening ; Strang- 
ways and Sands paced the quarter-deck, side by side ; 
and I leant listlessly over the bulwark, watching the ripple 
of the water, as it was reflected from the stately sides of 
the vessel. The burning heat of a tropic sun had induced 

* Seven o’clock r. ?r. 


I 





THE MIDDYi 


28 

an apathy, which caused all the “idlers” of the time to 
encourage an unusual degree of listless languor. The 
portly Mr. Parsons stood with folded arms, leaning against 
the carriage of a gun on the forecastle, and gazing on va¬ 
cuity ; even the tuneful voice of the jolly purser was mute; 
and, save the occasional creaking of the spars, the sighing 
of the breeze among the shrouds, and the slight murmur 
incidental to the usual routine of duty, there was nothing 
to interrupt the sleepy stillness. 

It was customary for Captain Morley, especially on 
such evenings as the present, when the steadiness of the 
weather relieved him, in some degree, from the anxiety 
consequent on his situation, to assemble the midshipmen 
in his cabin ; where he would kindly explain to them 
some difficulty in the ship’s reckoning; or cause them to 
read aloud to him, by turns, such books of instruction or 
entertainment as he thought proper to put into their hands. 
Their diligence and good elocution were frequently re¬ 
warded on such occasions with supper and a glass of grog 
at his own table ; or sometimes even with a hand at whist. 

To some rigid disciplinarians, perhaps, such a practice 
may appear highly derogatory to the dignity of a com¬ 
mander. But Captain Morley was one of those who 
conceived that good discipline was not incompatible with 
kindness, or even with considerate indulgence ; and while 
the mildness of his deportment gained for him the devoted 
attachment both of his officers and men, the respect due 
to his situation was never for a moment forgotten ; and 
his behests were invariably attended to with that emulous 
alacrity, which is only observable when the sense of duty 
is mingled with a sentiment of esteem. 

Accordingly, I had not long continued to watch the rip¬ 
pling waters, on the evening alluded to, when I was sum¬ 
moned below. I found the captain in the after-cabin, sitting 
in a careless attitude in the corner of the sofa. One hand 
held a book, and was resting on the ledge ; the other, on 
which his head was listlessly reclined, was partly hidden 
among the dark tresses of his hair. The rich mellow 
rays of the setting sun streamed gorgeously through the 
stern windows : tipping with their ruby light the bullion 
of his epaulets, and throwing what painters term a broad 




THE MIDDY. 29 

light and shadow over his face and figure. Two of my 
brother midshipmen, who had been summoned for the 
same purpose as myself, were just taking their seals as I 
entered. 

After some general conversation, on subjects more im¬ 
mediately connected with the business of the ship, Cap¬ 
tain Morley opened the book he held in his hand; and, 
presenting it to me, requested that I would read some pas¬ 
sages from it aloud. It was a copy of “ Coleridge’s 
Poems,” and I found it open at that beautiful crea¬ 
tion, ‘ Christabel.’ In the perusal of this book I knew 
the captain took great delight; and I commenced to read 
in my very best style of intonation. I had already got as 
far as the entrancing description of the mysterious lady, 
“ in the touch of whose bosom there dwelt a spelland 
I had just given out the concluding lines— 

I guess ’twas frightful there to see, 

A ladye richly clad as she— 

Beautiful exceedingly ! 

when Captain Morley suddenly started from his reclining 
posture, and leant forward in his seat with an expression 
of intense anxiety in his face ; watching apparently the 
repetition of some sound that had alarmed him. I paused ; 
and for a moment there was a death-like silence ; but at 
length the extreme and anxious tension of the captain’s 
features gradually relaxed ; he sunk back into his former 
attitude; and without remark on either side, I continued 
my reading. 

I had not, however, proceeded far, when I was again 
interrupted. On this occasion, as if again suddenly start¬ 
led, Captain Morley sprung hurriedly to his feet. For 
one instant he remained stationary, in an attitude of ab¬ 
sorbed attention ; his hand a little raised, as if to com¬ 
mand silence ; his brows knit, his eyes fixed, and his lips 
slightly separated. At length, impatiently snuffing the 
air, he rushed eagerly from the cabin. 

I knew Captain Morley to be a man of the very firmest 
nerve, and greatest promptitude in cases of emergency. 
Never taken unawares ; always prepared for whatever 
might happen; he was wont to behold the approach of 

3* 


30 


THE MIDDY. 


tempest or of battle, how unexpected soever, with the 
same calm serenity of countenance with which he paced 
the quarter-deck in sunshine and safety, 

H is conduct on the present occasion, therefore, struck 
me as the more remarkable. There was a wild expres¬ 
sion about his face, and a hurried trepidation in his move¬ 
ments, which I had never before witnessed ; a mixture of 
alarm and anxiety for which I was totally at a loss to ac¬ 
count. 

I did not, however, remain long to consider the pro¬ 
bable causes of his sudden disappearance ; but dashing 
down my book, I followed him hastily out of the cabin. 

On reaching the main-deck, the first thing that caught 
my bewildered sight was the captain’s coat lying in the 
lee-scuppers ; the very coat he had worn two minutes be¬ 
fore in the cabin. I snatched it up, and stood for a mo¬ 
ment lost in a maze of wild conjectures. What could 
have happened ? The uniform coat in such a situation, 
notwithstanding Captain Morley’s known punctiliousness 
in all matters of etiquette ! Was it possible that that 
raised look, and apparently causeless trepidation, could 

have arisen from any mental-? the very thought of 

such an event was dreadful. 

I looked anxiously around in all directions, in search 
of some source of explanation, nor was I kept long in 
suspense. First I heard an indistinct murmur rising for¬ 
ward from the lower deck; then an inarticulate sound; 
and at last spoken by twenty voices at once, the awful an¬ 
nouncement —Fire ! 

At sea, and for the first time, who that has heard that 
cry can ever forget it ! It is still ringing like a death-knell 
iu mj eais ; and though many summers have since passed 
over my head, the events of that night are still as fresh in 
my memory as if they were the occurrences of yester¬ 
day. Many leagues from the nearest point of land; our 
boats insufficient to carry one-fifth of the crew, and at 
best totally unfit to live for a day in those seas, if the 
weather became at all unpropitious ; we had nothing to 
look for but death in one or other of his most appalling 
forms ! It was a fearful alternative ! 

jVTy first impulse, l know not why, was to rush on deck. 



THE MIDDY. 


31 


I found it almost entirely deserted. On the first alarm, 
men and officers had pressed eagerly forward to ascertain 
the extent of the evil; and, saving the man at the helm, 
and Mr. Sands the purser, who was pacing up and down 
the quarter-deck with a look of determined resignation, 
not an individual was to be seen. 

“ For God’s sake, Mr. Sands,” I cried ; “ where’s the 
fire, sir ?” 

“ In the boatswain’s store-room, sir. Another hour, 
and there will not be a man left to tell the tale.” 

“ The boatswain’s store-room !” I repeated, as the 
thought flashed across my mind that nothing but a thin 
bulkhead divided this room from the powder magazine.* 
“ The boatswain’s store-room ! Then no earthly exer¬ 
tion can save us !” 

“ Of course not, sir,” replied Sands ; and pointing for¬ 
ward, he directed my attention to a thin column of white 
smoke that now began to issue from the fore-hatchway. 

Uncertain what to do, or which way to turn, I stood 
and gazed upon this harbinger of our destruction, as it 
rose slowly up behind the shelter of the booms ; and then, 
caught by the breeze, was carried away in eddies, and 
dissipated on the face of the waters. The sound of the 
drum beating to quarters was the first thing that roused 
me ; and in obedience to the summons, I hurried instantly 
to my station below. 

The scene here soon became one of extreme activity. 
The firemen of the fore-mast guns handed in water from 
the main-deck ports ; while those of the after guns cleared 
the magazine, and got the gunpowder on deck ; where it 
was stowed abaft the mizen-mast, ready to be thrown 
over-board, in case the fire should obtain the mastery. 
At the fore-hatchway, where he commanded a full view of 
the main, and a partial one of the lower deck, stood our 
gallant commander, without coat or hat; issuing orders 
and giving directions. Strangways took charge of the 
men beneath, and directed the pla-y of the engines. 

The fire now raged with fury ; and at every fresh dis- 

* Beiiw a young sailor at the time, I was not aware that the Hes¬ 
perus, being a frigate of the class denominated Jackass Frigates, had 
no magazine forward. 


32 


THE MIDDY. 


charge of water, it sent up thick suffocating gusts oi 
vapoury smoke. The different articles in the store-room ; 
ropes, canvass, tarpaulings, and so forth ; being of a very 
combustible nature, gave additional impetus to the flames ; 
and it became a matter of the utmost importance that as 
many of them as possible should be removed. The peri¬ 
lous and arduous duty of removing these was undertaken 
by the boatswain himself. With a rope fastened round 
his waist, and a hatchet in his hand, the gallant Parsons 
made repeated descents on this perilous mission ; and was 
as often dragged out in a state of total exhaustion and in¬ 
sensibility. 

I shall never forget the scene that presented itself to 
me as I stepped forward to the top of the hatch to de¬ 
liver an order from the captain. Within the burning - 
store-room, his figure enveloped in dense smoke, but at 
the same time clearly relieved against the red glare of the 
flame, stood the gallant Parsons ; breaking open the lock¬ 
ers with his hatchet, and tearing down stores of all kinds 
from the shelves. The heavy stroke of the axe, and the 
crashing of the breaking boards, mixed strangely with the 
crackling sound of the fire, and the hissing of the water. 
Vigorously, for a few minutes, did the noble little fellow 
wield his uplifted hatchet and tear asunder the hoards of 
the lockers. Gradually, however, his stroke became fee¬ 
bler and more feeble; until at length, completely over¬ 
come by the scorching heat and suffocating smoke, he 
reeled, fell, and was dragged insensible on deck. 

For two hours did we labour incessantly, but in vain. 
The fire was gaining so rapidly, that the stream of water 
from the engines very soon lost almost entirely its effect. 
As a last resource, therefore, the lower deck was scuttled ; 
and water was brought in buckets, and poured, through 
the openings, down upon the raging element. At first 
this appeared to produce a good effect, as the strength of 
the flame was evidently subdued ; and in the hope of ex¬ 
tinguishing it entirely by one large volumeof water, Strang- 
vvays ordered the men to fill all their buckets, and pour 
their contents at the same moment through the deck. 

This was accordingly done; but to the astonishment 
of every one, a fresh flash of fire, accompanied by a dense 


THE MIDDY. 


33 

volume of smoke, followed the discharge. The men for 
an instant stood aghast; the empty buckets in their hands. 
Strangways seemed uncertain how he was next to pro¬ 
ceed ; and the captain bent over the hatchway above in 
considerable consternation. 

A slight murmur among the men succeeded this mo¬ 
mentary pause. It seemed to refer to getting the boats 
in readiness ; and the practised ear of the captain instantly 
caught its purport. He started, as if struck by lightning, 

“ Send the carpenter here !” he exclaimed, in a voice 
almost amounting to a scream; and immediately the car¬ 
penter was at his side. 

“Go on deck, sir,” he cried ; render every boat unfit 
for sea! And now, men,'*’ he continued ; “ we shall 
sink or swim together!” 

A single round of hearty cheers followed this declara¬ 
tion ; and in a minute all were again busily occupied. 

Scarcely, however, had the axe been laid to the first 
boat on the booms, when Strangways called up the hatch¬ 
way to announce that the fire was nearly extinguished. 
The last flash of flame and cloud of dense smoke had 
been the expiring struggle of the devouring element, as 
the great volume of water fell upon some vital part. By 
a little active exertion, the firemen in a few minutes suc¬ 
ceeded in getting it entirely under ; and very soon noth¬ 
ing remained of the conflagration but the vapoury smoke 
which arose from the smouldering embers. 

Such of the stores as were not consumed were now got 
up on deck ; where they were spread out and examined, 
in case any latent spark might still be lurking among 
them. All, however, being reported safe, the retreat was 
beat; the starboard watch set; and an universal silence 
speedily prevailed, which contrasted strangely with the 
previous bustle. 

I well remember, it was my middle watch ; and shall I 
be ashamed to acknowledge, that while I paced the deck 
during those four solitary midnight hours, I breathed 
forth more than one thanksgiving to the mighty Ruler of 
all things, who had thus so mercifully interposed in our 
behalf I 

Next morning when I left my hammock and went on 


34 


THE MIDDY. 


deck I found everything in its usual order. The gun¬ 
powder and other stores had been removed below; the 
decks and hatchways were newly washed; and, saving 
that a strong smell of burning still lingered about the 
main and lower decks, no one could have imagined that, 
so shortly before, the ship was on the eve of perishing by 
fire. I stepped forward on the gangway, and found Darby 
Mullins, the carpenter’s mate, busy repairing the boat he 
had disabled the previous evening. 

“ Good mornin’ to your honour,” said he, touching his 
little bit of tarpaulin hat, as I passed ; “ I’m glad to see 
you well and alive after last night’s work. Troth, they 
would ha’found it indifferent sailing that trusted themselves 
to this gig anyhow.” 

“ Why, Darby, I suppose if you had had a few minutes 
longer you would have scuttled every boat upon the 
booms.” 

'‘Fail! and wid all my heart and soul, your honour. 
Och, it was like a rale gintleman in the captain, to tell us 
all to sink or swim thegider ! Japers ! lie’s none of your 
big-wigs, who are afraid of being seen in honest folk’s 
company ! But, who does your honour think ’ll be sarved 
out for the doing of it?—bad ’cess to him for that same!” 

“ I can’t tell, Darby; it’s no business of mine, nor of 
yours either, I trust.” 

“ Thrue for you, thrue for you, your honour; only I 
couldn’t help axing about it, for Mister Parson’s has been 
saying that the captain’s been after making vestigashins, 
and we’ll hear more about it yet.” 

“ Darby Mullins,” said I, “ mind you your mallet and 
your chisel, and leave the captain to take care of his own 
affairs.” 

“ Thrue for you again, your honour ; so I’ll just be 
after patching up this big hole myself was so handy at 

making ; and he again set to plying his hammer with 
redoubled assiduity. 

Whatever investigations the captain had instituted, with 
regard to the individual with whom the fire had origi¬ 
nated, the result was totally unknown except to the 
parties concerned. That due inquiry had been made 
however, we all felt quite assured ; for the crime was 









THE MIDDY. 


35 


one of a very serious nature, and not likely to be over¬ 
looked by so strict a disciplinarian as Captain Morley. 
Nay, when the systematic arrangement of everything on 
board, and the correct information the captain usually 
had of whatever passed in the ship, was considered, it 
seemed extremely probable that the guilty person had 
been detected. 

It was, not, therefore, matter of astonishment to myself 
or any one else, when, at six bells in the forenoon, all 
hands were turned up for punishment. In the fore-part of 
the quarter-deck stood Captain Morley, dressed in full uni¬ 
form, and holding a folded paper in his hand ; apparently 
the articles of war. Near him were the different officers, 
in cocked hats and side arms; and, a little farther re¬ 
moved, the men . 1 

All was now anxiety as to the culprit; and there was a 
general murmur of regret and surprise, when Richard El¬ 
kins, the boatswain’s yeoman, was called forward and com¬ 
mitted to the custody of the master-at-arms. 

If there was one man on board the Hesperus a greater 
and more general favourite than another, it was Elkins. 
Civil and obliging to his superiurs; kind and friendly to 
his equals; an excellent seaman, and always ready at the 
call of duty ; he was respected and beloved both by officers 
and men. During the war he had been engaged in the 
hottest of the fray; and bore many honourable wounds in 
testimony of his gallantry. Repeatedly had he led the van 
of his comrades in boarding the enemy ; twice had he by 
his prowess, and, at great personal risk, saved the life of 
an officer; and on one occasion he swam to the admiral 
with despatches when the iron shower of ball and grape 
fell so thick that no boat could be trusted on the water. 

The captain, having read, before an uncovered audience, 
the clause in the articles of war which related to the crime, 
folded up the paper, and, with a tone of deep emotion, 
addressed the unhappy man nearly in these words; 

a Richard Elkins ! through your carelessness yesterday 
the ship was nearly destroyed by fire ; and your shipmates 
have only been saved from the most dreadful of deaths, 
by the merciful interposition of that Being before whose 
awful tribunal your culpable neglect had so nearly hurried 


36 


THE MIDDY. 


them. You have broken the articles of war; having, in 
direct opposition to orders, removed a lighted candle from 
the lantern in which it was placed for safety; and fasten¬ 
ing it to a beam, you left it burning.in that situation when 
you went to supper.* In consequence of this act of diso¬ 
bedience and neglect on your part, the fire broke out in the 
boatswain’s storeroom. Is this the case, sir, or is it not'?” 

“ It is, sir!” 

“ I therefore consider it my duty to punish you, as an 
example to the rest of the crew; and much do I regret 
that one, who is in every respect so deserving a man, should 
have incurred so severe a penalty. Strip, sir !” 

Without a syllable in his own defence, or a single plea 
for mercy, poor Elkins took off his coat and shirt; and his 
brawny wrists were tied to the gratings. One only appeal 
he made, but not in words; it was merely an expressive 
glance of his eye, by which he seemed to request the in¬ 
tercession of his officers and comrades. The benevolent 
commander marked that glance; and it was reflected 
back from his own countenance, as if he wished to second 
the appeal. But in vain ; no one spoke; for all knew that 
the offence was too heinous to be forgiven. 

The boatswain had taken off his coat, preparatory to 
giving the first dozen ; the cat was ready in his hand ; the 
stiff figure of the master-at-arms stood by, prepared to re- 
cord the stripes ; and the captain paced to* and fro upon 
the deck, chucking into the air a small bunch of keys; 
his common practice when he was agitated. 

After making several turns of the quarter-deck, he at 
length stopped; and every one expected that he was about 
to give the signal to commence. For a moment he stood 
gazing on the culprit. It was an interval of the most anx¬ 
ious suspense; and all eyes were eagerly fixed upon him. 
At last turning towards the boatswain, he raised his hand 

gently upwards, and gave the unexpected order “ Cast 
him off !”t * 

In an instant the bonds fell from the poor fellow’s arms * 
and he stood, unshackled and undisgraced, amonor his 
comrades, 6 


* Four o’clock r. m. 


f Unbind him. 


THE MIDDY". 


37 


“ Elkins !” said the captain, “ I cannot flog you! It is 
not twenty-four hours since God forgave us all ; it is meet 
that I should now forgive you ! Pipe down, Mr. Parsons.” 

Three rounds of such hearty cheers, as made the tim¬ 
bers of the Old Hesperus ring again, succeeded this short, 
but truly eloquent address; and I believe I was not the 
only one on board who envied our noble-minded comman¬ 
der the grateful applause of an approving conscience ; an 
applause which, certainly, he must have that day experi¬ 
enced. 


\ 








VOL. I.—4 



38 


THE MIDDY. 


CHAPTER IV. 

V - •» . V . 

ST. HELENA. 


And then there was a little isle, 

That in my very face did smile ; 

The only one in view. 

A small green isle ; it seemed no more, 

Scarce broader than my dungeon floor; 

But in it there were three tall trees, 

And o’er it blew the mountain breeze, 

And by it there were waters flowing, 

And on it there were wild flowers growing, 

Of gentle breath and hue. 

Prisoner of Chillon. 

After a somewhat tedious six weeks trip from Teneriffe, 
our ears were at last gladdened by the announcement of 
land ; and I cannot more adequately describe the feelings 
that, as a young sailor, occupied my mind on this occa¬ 
sion, than by quoting the above lines which the inimitable 
Byron has applied to the Prisoner of Chillon. 

Unhappy Bonnivard ! For six long years his look had 
rested upon nothing but the humid walls and dripping 
vault of his cell; and now when he had clambered up to 
the grated window of his dungeon, and “ bent the quiet 
of a loving eye” upon the towering mountains, with their 
thousand years of snow ; and the sunny surface of the rip¬ 
pled lake ; and the gay white sails that skimmed the 
waters of the flowing Rhone ; it was with feelings which 
they who have experienced can alone appreciate. 

In the little inland, which the poet has represented as 
so peculiarly rivetting the attention of the noble Prisoner 
there is nothing remarkable. The stranger may pass it 
a thousand times, and scarcely, perhaps, be so "much as 
aware of its existence. But for the captive Bonnivard it 
I ad a charm, independent of its aspect. In his mind it was 
associated with the idea of that which he cherished more 
fondly than life ; the idea of freedom. The breeze that 
sighed among the foliage; the tall trees that stretched 



THE MIDDY. 


39 

their leafy branches towards the sky; the streams that 
cascaded among the rocks ; the many-tinted wild flowers 
that smiled in the sunbeams, were all lively emblems of 
the liberty he had lost. He gazed upon them as upon 
friends from whom he had long been separated; and felt 
how true it is that misfortune teaches us to find, even in 
objects the most indifferent, a charm to which we were 
totally insensible while slumbering on the lap of blind 
prosperity. 

It was with feelings somewhat analogous, that, after 
passing six monotonous weeks on the weary waste of 
waters, I heard the look-out at the mast-head announce 
“ Land!” 

It was evening; and a thin gauzy mist obscured, but 
did not hide, the horizon. I stretched my anxious look 
in every direction ; but I could discover nothing, save the 
same circular sheet of shoreless water which had so long 
formed our only prospect; unvaried, unbroken, uninter¬ 
esting, as ever. 

Captain Morley was pacing the quarter-deck; and 
though a good deal ashamed of my want of skill in dis¬ 
tinguishing distant objects, I at last ventured to ask him, 
“ Where is the land, sir ?” He smiled ; and putting his 
glass into my hand, desired me to look in a direction nearly 
due south. 

On the very verge of the horizon I discovered something 
' that resembled a narrow strip of bluish cloud; apparently 
divided in thecentre. It was St. Helena ; the wave-walled 
prison and island grave of Napoleon. So light, so vapou¬ 
ry, so air-suspended did it seem, that I was, at first, almost 
tempted to consider it a meteoric illusion ; and scarcely 
had I time to satisfy myself of its reality, when the fiery 
disc of the tropic sun plunged beneath the horizon, and 
in a few minutes there was total darkness. 

In the morning, shortly after day-break, I was on deck. 
The island was now about eight leagues distant, and ap¬ 
peared like a solitary mountain, very high and precipitous ; 
its summit enveloped in dense clouds. We were scudding 
before a steady breeze ; and, as we approached, the clouds 
melted gradually away, and I could discern a series of 
steep conic hills running along the water’s edge; their 


40 


THE MIDbY. 


angled summits relieved against the sky. I could even 
distinguish the shape and reddish colour of the apparently 
volcanic strata of which these rocky masses were coin- 
posed. Round their base, the sea, everywhere so tranquil 
in those latitudes, broke boisterously. Of a beach there 
was not the slightest indication. 

From the roadstead, where we dropped anchor in the 
afternoon, the view was strikng and unique. 

Before us, and partly concealed by a dense range of 
trees, lay the town ; with its houses of dazzling white or 
glaring yellow, glancing gaily in the sunbeams ; and its 
neat church rearing its little square tower into the air, as 
if in vain emulation of the majestic steeps that surrounded 
it. Beyond this, the bare rugged sides of St. James’s 
Valley receded far into the distance. 

On our right hand was Ladder Hill ; its lofty summit 
surmounted by battlements ; and its precipitous side in¬ 
dented by a zig-zag road, which forms the only access to 
the fortress above. Steep craggy cliffs, from seven to nine 
hundred feet in height, dipped sheer into the water; and 
the seething waves murmured hoarsely among the hollow 
caverns, which their constant fretting had excavated in 
the rocks. Strong bulwarks of stone, and batteries bristled 
with cannon, protected every spot where a landing could 
possibly be effected. 

A few trees scattered along the face of the precipices, 
presented a verdure foreign to the scene ; and contrasted 
strangely with the red and grey colour of the rocks which 
they shaded. But saving these, there was not a vegeta¬ 
tion. All was bare, rugged, and forbidding; and a few 
occasional patches of sickly, yellow-looking, glass-wort, 
only served to remind the spectator of the extreme barren¬ 
ness of the soil. 

In the evening we communicated with the Admiral; and 
we were informed that our vessel was to be put on cruiz¬ 
ing duty to windward, previous to proceeding to the Cape. 

This was by no means pleasing intelligence to my 
brother officers ; most of whom were looking eagerly for¬ 
ward to the society and pleasures of Cape-town. ° For my 
own part, I was, on the whole, rather satisfied with the 
arrangement; as I had an uncle on the governor’s staff at 


THE MIDDY. 


41 


St. Helena; to whom I had a great deal of home intelli¬ 
gence to communicate, and with whom I anticipated a few 
agreeable days. He was an officer high in the service ; 
and, of course, possessed the entree to all the society in 
the island worth coveting. 

On the morning after our arrival I was leaning over the 
bulwarks ; observing the various craft from the shore, that 
were plying about and trafficking with the crew, when I 
descried a large gaily-painted barge emerge from behind a 
promontory of the rock, and pull directly for the ship. As 
she neared us, I discovered a military officer in a blue 
frock and red sash, cocked hat and feather, sitting abaft. 
The rowers pulled lustily along; the barge shot rapidly 
through the water; and presently I could distinguish the 
friendly ruddy countenance of Uncle Fred. 

“ Well, Ned, my boy,” said he, as soon as the first 
greetings and congratulations were over; “ how do you 
take with the sea-faring life, eh ? Mighty well, no doubt! 
No objections, however, I suppose, to smell the land breeze 
for a few days, eh ? Well, I must see what my friend 
Morley has to say to it;” and he descended, accordingly, 
to the captain’s cabin, carrying with him my best wishes 
for the success of his mission. 

In about half an hour the captain and he appeared to¬ 
gether on the quarter-deck ; and the former calling me up, 
informed me that I was at liberty to go on shore with my 
uncle for a week. 

Short time sufficed to make the necessary preparations ; 
and as the captain was himself going ashore, he insisted on 
our taking places in his gig- 

Never shall I forget the pleasure I felt at the prospect 
of once more setting my foot on land. Although the 
rowers pulled strongly, and the rapid forward motion of 
the boat sent showers of spray into the air; to me the 
oars seemed to linger in the water, and every wave we 
surmounted appeared to carry us back. Had we sped 
upon the wings of the wind, I verily believe I should have 
thought we were loitering. 

On nearing the shore, I looked in vain for a landing- 
place. All around I could see nothing but tall perpendi¬ 
cular rocks, and inaccessible stone bulwarks ; far up the 

4 * 


\ 


42 


THE MIDDY. 


black and weather-beaten sides of which the sea rolled its 
white-crested billows, as if to forbid all access to the 
water-warded coast. 

At length my uncle pointed out to me something that 
resembled a quay; but so low, and so much the colour of 
the surrounding rocks, as scarcely to be distinguishable. 

Even here, the only accessible spot in the whole circuit 
of the island, it was no easy matter to effect a landing. 
The steep stone steps of the quay rose abruptly out of the 
water; and the waves flowed and receded upon them in 
such a manner, as at one moment completely to immerse 
them, and the next to leave them entirely bare. The 
same billow that bore us far up to the very water’s edge, 
carried us back again in its reflux; and left us to be borne 
forward by the next. Our only resource was to take ad¬ 
vantage of the short pause that occurred before the leced- 
ing of the wave ; and to jump as quickly as possible 
ashore. 

In effecting this, I unfortunately slipped my foot; and 
falling into the water, just as the wave was receding, I 
would infallibly have been carried away by it, had not 
my uncle suddenly caught me by the arm and pulled me 
out. 

“So, so, Ned!” he cried, as, considerably disconcerted, 
I shook the brine from my dripping clothes ; “ are you so 
very fond of salt water, that you can’t leave it for a week 
without a parting embrace !” 

A roar of laughter succeeded this sally ; in which I 
thought it was, on the whole, most prudent to join. 

We now proceeded along the pier ; which is high, and 
overlooks the water, but is defended by no parapet. When 
the sea is peculiarly stormy, the heaving billows lash, 
with fearful impetuosity, far above the spot we were tra¬ 
versing, and preclude the possibility of either landing or 
embarking. 

Presently we entered the covered way of the principal 
battery, which skirts along the verge of the rock; consi¬ 
derably elevated above the water’s edge. This walk was 
adorned by a beautiful alley of flourishing fig-trees ;* be- 

Those trees appear to grow out of the solid rock, which forms the 
only soil. Their leaves have much the appearance of those of the 




THE MIDDY. 


43 

neath the shade of which the Chinese labourers, in their 
white linen clothes and broad-brimmed straw hats, were 
comfortably squatted; enjoying their hour of rest, and 
discussing their morning’s rice. Several tawny-looking 
Yamstocks* eyed us with eager curiosity as we passed 
along: a few of the towns-people, dressed in English 
costumes, were promenading beneath the sheltering 
shadows of the trees; and the little becafico hopped about 
among the branches, enlivening the scene with its cheerful 
note. 

Proceeding onwards, we passed through a narrow 
arched gateway; and the town, which consists of one 
short straight street of dazzling white and yellow houses, 
lay before us. We were here received by a mounted 
orderly with two led horses ; one richly caparisoned with 
ornamented housings ; the other, a noble animal of the 
pure English breed, equipped in the common equestrian 
furniture. 

Having cordially shaken hands with the worthy captain, 
we mounted, and rode off at a brisk pace for my uncle’s 
residence. We ascended Ladder Hill by the zig-zag 
pathway I had observed from the ship, and proceeded 
along the ridge of its flat and barren summit. 

It was a bleak and cheerless prospect. Rocks, naked 
and flinty, without the slightest indication of soil, far less 
of vegetation, stretched themselves out in every direction. 
Saving a few solitary sea fowl, that hovered at a cautious 
distance over our heads, or sailed away down the wind as 
we approached ; not a living thing was to be seen. The 
hoofs of our horses clattered along the rocky road ; and 
the hollow monotonous sound which they made accorded 
well with the solitude of the scene. INot the vestige of a 
habitation; no trace of man or of his handiwork, served 
to indicate that the spot we were traversing had ever be¬ 
fore been trodden by a human foot. 

When we reached the extremity of the flat space which 
forms the summit of Ladder Hill, and had begun to descend 

common poplar; but our doctor, who was somewhat vain of his botanic 
lore, assured us they were the Ficus religiosa of Linnaeus. Ficus rdi- 
giosa! what associations that name suggests ! 

* The natives are so denominated. 


44 


THE MIDDY. 


upon the other side, it almost seemed as if the wand 
of the magician had been waved over the scene. A 
lovely amphitheatre of wood and water, and rich green 
meadows, and the abodes of men, lay before us. Occa¬ 
sional glimpses of the white walls of a handsome man¬ 
sion-house completed the picture. I gazed in silence, 
lost to every feeling but wonder and admiration ; and it 
was not till the sudden winding of the road, beneath a 
grove of majestic sycamores, had shut the prospect from 
my view, that I could recall my thoughts to their former 
channel. 

“Is this fairy land ?” I said to my uncle ; “or have I 
been suddenly transported back to the wooded plains and 
rich green holmes of England?” 

“ Not at all,” he replied ; “ you are nowhere but on 
the bleak, desert island-rock of St. Helena. The hand¬ 
some mansion you must have observed from the hill, is 
Plantation House, the residence of the governor ; to whom 
I shall shortly have the pleasure of presenting you.” 

As he spoke, we were startled by the clattering of hoofs 
and the rumbling of wheels ; and looking back, we ob¬ 
served a handsome English phaeton, drawn by four beau- 
ful black ponies, approaching at a rapid pace. I followed 
the example of my uncle, and reined my bounding roan 
to the side of the load to allow a free passage. 

The carriage was occupied by two ladies ; one of whom 
guided the prancing team with admirable adroitness. She 
was habited in a pelisse of dark blue cloth ; which, being 
open at the breast, displayed the plaited folds of a cambric 
chemise; the embroidered collar of which was thrown back 
over the shoulders, and retained round the lower part of 
the neck by a broad ribbon of black silk. A black beaver 
bat and green gauze veil, drawn to one side and hanging 
down over the back, completed her costume. She was a 
woman apparently in the prime of life; with dark hair, 
lively sparkling eyes, and an uncommon brilliancy of com¬ 
plexion. A gay cavalcade of young officers and ladies 
followed at a hand-gallop behind the carriage. 

Arrived opposite the place where we stood, the fair 
charioteer reined up and saluted my uncle. Like a true 
born son of Yorkshire, I confess I was at first more 


I 


THE MIDDY. 45 

occupied with the team than with their mistress. Four 
such beautifully matched little black bloods I had scarce¬ 
ly ever seen ; sleek, shining, and jetty ; with high arched 
necks and limbs like rein-deer. I would have given the 
world could I have taken the lady’s place and usurped the 
reins. As it was, I was fain to content myself with 
admiring the “points” of the tiny steeds; which I did 
with a genuine nautical want of ceremony; and I was 
only tempted at last to bestow a look upon their guide by 
hearing her mix her conversation with several kind epithets 
and terms of endearment addressed to them. 

“ And pray, Colonel—soho, my darlings !—who is this 
that you favour so highly as to mount upon the redoubted 
Nestor ? Quiet now, my pets !” 

“ A nephew of mine, your ladyship ; arrived last night 
with the Hesperus.” 

“ What ! a midshipman !—steady, dears, steady !—a 
very nice-looking youth, indeed. Well, he comes quite 
a propos —softly, Kitty ! Sir-, you know, is particu¬ 

larly fond of midshipmen ; and there has, besides, been a 
lack of males for some days at Plantation House. I hope 
lie can make himself useful—gently, loves, gently! See 
you don’t neglect to parade him at dinner to day.” My 
uncle bowed. “ Does he make a long stay, Colonel?” 

“ He has obtained leave for a week, your ladyship.” 

“ Very good ! but see you don’t let him come in con¬ 
tact with the double-nosecl pointer , or the brass knocker. 1 * 
You understand? Be sure you take care of that; other¬ 
wise he won’t do for me, you know. Well: good bye 
for the present; we shall meet at seven. Come along, 
my sweets !” And with a shrill chirrup to her ponies, 
she bounded off; followed by the rest of the cavalcade. 

When I left the ship in the morning, I had no idea that 
I was destined to dine with the governor in the afternoon. 
Indeed, it was an honour with which I would gladly have 
dispensed. Before I left England, I had never heard Sir 

- - spoken of, unless in the most opprobrious 

terms ; and his name was associated in my mind with 

♦ Any person who chanced to sojourn at St. Helena during the pe¬ 
riod to which I refer, will perfectly understand this allusion of her 
ladyship. 





46 


THE MIDD JT. 


everything that was base, tyrannical, ungenerous, and un- 
gentleman like. 

At school, if there were any boy particularly disliked, 
we used to designate him, by way of reproach, “ The 
Gaoler Knight .” Our very sports had reference to him ; 
and the walls of the school-room were plastered over 
with all manner of grotesque figures, intended as represen¬ 
tations of this hated individual. Sometimes we had him 
depicted as a grim Turkish Janizary, with a bunch of pon¬ 
derous-looking keys in his hand ; sometimes as Blue- 
beaid, with an enormous sword at his side ; and some¬ 
times as the “ cruel uncle” in the nursery tale, with a 
bundle of chains and manacles on his back. But what¬ 
ever the form our pictorial invention might bestow upon 
him, it was invariably a hideous one ; and it was generally 
distinguished by having written beneath it, in huge cha¬ 
racters, “ Old Geoffrey ;” the name which we used jeer- 
ingly to apply to him. 

Every thing out of school, too, tended to confirm this 
prejudice. The ballads sung in the streets ; the conver¬ 
sation of our elders ; the public newspapers, constantly 
teeming with accounts of new atrocities ; all tended to 
strengthen us in our dislike of the iron-hearted governor. 

“ I had rather not go with you to Plantation House to¬ 
day, sir,” I said to my uncle ; after we had partaken of a 
plentiful collation. “ If you will leave me at home, I 
shall not be at a loss for amusement.” 

“ VVhy, what the deuce is come over you now, Ned? 
Are you frightened, boy ? Nonsense ! Fourteen, and 
frightened for a governor !” 

“ You mistake me, sir,” I replied, a little piqued at the 
insinuation. “ I am afraid of no man; but I hate the 
governor so cordially, that I am sure I shall not be able to 
remain for an hour in his society. Besides, I don’t like 
the idea of sitting at the table, and eating the bread of at 
man, of whom I have been in the habit of thinking and 
saying every thing that is bad.” 

“ Pooh, pooh ! is that all ? You must learn to knoio 
him, boy, before you pretend either to like or dislike him. 
When you have lived in the world as long as I have done, 
you will know the folly and the danger of founding any 






THE MIDDY. 


THE MIDDY. 47 

• » 

opinion upon the empty, fetid breath, of common slander. 
You shall go!” 

To so imperative an indication of my uncle’s pleasure 
on the subject, I did not attempt a rejoinder; and accord- 
a t a little after seven o’clock, I found myself in 
the drawing-room of Plantation House. 

It was an elegant apartment; handsomely fitted up, 
with English furniture, and in the English style. The 
company, which was numerous, was divided into separate 
groups; some engaged in turning over the files of the latest 
British papers ; some in making gallant speeches to the 

ladies ; some in listening to the jokes of Lady-, and 

some joining in conversation with the governor. 

To the latter I was formally presented by my uncle. 
He was a little spare, pale-faced man, dressed in the full 
uniform of his rank. His figure, though diminutive, was 
correctly proportioned ; and his countenance might have 
been termed handsome, but for the peculiarity of his 
eyes; which were almost hid beneath his bushy over¬ 
hanging eyebrows. , 

In his manner he was extremely affable. He spoke to 
me of my ship and my brother officers ; asked my opin¬ 
ion of St. Helena; and hoped I would be no stranger at 
Plantation House ; where he promised me at all times a 
hearty welcome, good cheer, and plenty of amusement. 

“ In fine weather,” said he, “ we have horses, dogs, 
and guns for our friends ; in bad, a billiard-table. In the 
evenings we have good wine, good music, and occasionally 
a dance ; so I hope, Mr. Lascelles, you will find our lone 
isle as pleasant at least as the main-deck of the Hespe¬ 
rus ; gallant vessel though she be !” 

I will frankly admit, that this address made the first 
lodgment on the outworks of my prejudice. 

At the dinner table, partly by my own adroit manage¬ 
ment, and partly through the favour of chance, I found 
myself seated beside a young lady, whose appearance had 
rivetted my attention from the moment I entered the draw¬ 
ing-room. 

She was apparently about my own age; and, in my 
opinion, inexpressibly beautiful. Her long flaxen hair 
was divided over the middle of the forehead ; and hung, 










48 


THE MIDDY. 


in full clustering ringlets, down her neck and shoulders. 
Her complexion was of an almost transparent delicacy ; 
and its lovely roseate tint accorded well with the intelli¬ 
gent tone of her features, which were cast in the finest 
mould of Grecian symmetry. A benignant smile played 
round her lips ; and her laughing lambent eye was of the 
softest liquid blue. j 

Her dress displayed great taste. It was simple ; and 
arranged with a total disregard of everything approaching 
to ornament. 

Ogni suo fregio non era fatto, ma nato. 

She had the figure of a sylph. 

With the bashful awkwardness of a boy, I sat for some 
time silent, at a loss how to address her; and heartily I 
envying a dashing cornet of dragoons,* who was seated 
at her other hand ; chatting away with all the volubility , 
of military assurance. 

At the first glance, I set down this youth as a most 
consummate coxcomb. His silky blond hair was studi¬ 
ously divided over his forehead, and collected in shining 
clusters at his temples. His thin half-growing mustache 
was carefully dyed; and a meagre Henri Quatre, of the 
same auburn tint, adorned his under lip. His right hand, 
which was considerably seamed and scarred, he took es¬ 
pecial care to display; constantly keeping it above the 
table, playing with the handle of his knife or fork, or with 
the spoon of the salt-cellar. He appeared anxious, in¬ 
deed, that the lovely girl, to whom lie addressed himself, 
should infer that this hand had been wounded in action ; 
or, at least, in an affair of honour. 

His conversation was insipid in the extreme; full of 
the most arrant egotism, and interlarded with a variety of 
strange exclamations and singular oaths. According to 
his own account, there was nothing in which he was not 
a proficient. 

He talked of guns, and drums, and wounds, 

God save the mark ! and that the sovereigucst 
Thing on earth was- 

* The reader is, perhaps, awaie, that there were no dragoon offi¬ 
cers stationed at St. Helena. The young gentleman referred to was 
on his passage to India; and a visitor, for the time, at Plantation 
House. 









THE MIDDY. 


49 


himself. In horsemanship his skill was consummate ; in 
sporting he was a nonpareil. 

“ I should like to show the governor,” said he, “ what 
it is to handle a fowling-piece ! I certainly may boast of 
being able to shoot!” 

His fair companion replied with a simple, but some¬ 
what emphatic, “ Indeed !” 

“ I assure you it’s the case, ma’am !” he continued.— 

“ I was present at Lord-’s famous baltu in Yorkshire, 

last year; and even his lordship, who is reckoned one of 
the best shots in England, declared some of my hits quite 
superb !” 

“ Indeed!” again responded the lady. 

Now, it so happened that I had heard a good deal of 

this famous battu at Lord-’s in Yorkshire; and as I 

glanced at the shattered hand of the speaker, it put me in 
mind of a circumstance which had been mentioned to me 
as occurring on the occasion ; and which the reader may 
perhaps recollect as having run, at the time, the round of 
the public journals. 

“ I have heard, sir,” said I, joining in the conversation ; 

“ that it is rather dangerous to shoot with Lord-in 

cover.” 

The cornet blushed slightly; and looked as if he could 
have torn my tongue out. 

“ A circumstance of rather a peculiar nature,” I con¬ 
tinued, addressing myself to the lady, “ occurred to a raw 
young sportsman, at the battu of which the gentleman 
has spoken. I was in Yorkshire at the time ; and am 
acquainted with the whole particulars. It was in a thick 
young plantation ; where the trees were just high enough 
to overtop the heads of the sportsmen. The youth to 
whom I allude, hearing one of the keepers call out “ Cock !” 
and being aware of a flapping of wings within a few yards 
of him, but seeing nothing; raised his gun and fired in the 
direction of the noise. 

“ ‘ A superb shot!’ called out Lord-, who was with¬ 

in about thirty yards of the spot. * Who fired ?’ 

“ ‘ / did P ejaculated the youth. 

“ ‘ Where are you V rejoined his lordship. 4 Hold your 
hand up that I may see where you are !’ 

VOL. i.—5 









50 


THE MIDDY. 


“ The youth, dreading no evil, did as he was desired. 
Crack went his lordship’s gun; and its contents were 
lodged in the ill-fated, upstretched hand. 

ii ‘ Take that, my young friend,’ cried his lordship ; 
4 and learn to shoot nearer your mark another time. Your 
pellets have completely riddled my hat!’ ” 

The lady glanced at the seamed right hand of the cor¬ 
net, as I finished my story; and gave a hearty laugh. 
The officer blushed up to the eyes; grinned a mali¬ 
cious laugh at what he called “the good joke;” and took 
the earliest opportunity of concealing the unlucky hand 
beneath his napkin. 

For the next hour he was wonderfully silent. 

The enemy being thus disposed of, and a fair field be¬ 
fore me ; I did not lose the opportunity of pursuing^my 
conversation with the beautiful Sophia. My bashfulness 
speedily vanished before the cheering smile of her beam¬ 
ing countenance. We talked of home ; of England, its 
people and its pleasures; and shortly of the mutual friends, 
for many of them we found were mutual, whom w r e had 
left behind us there. 

I had never been so happy in my life. To sit by So¬ 
phia ; to talk to her, to hear her talk ; was elysium ! 




THE MIDDY. 


51 


CHAPTER V. 

i 

A TRAIT OF TIIE GOVERNOR. 

Lo ! there thou stand’st a breathing valiant man; 

Of an invincible unconquered spirit. 

This is the latest glory of thy praise, 

Which I, thine enemy, due thee withal. 

King Henry VI. 

My agreeable tete-a-tete with the beautiful Sophia was 
at length interrupted, by the governor calling out, in ra¬ 
ther a loud voice, for his butler; who was at the other end 
of the room. 

“ How is this, Stevens ?” said Sir-; when the man 

was at his side. “ There are no-* at table; and 

I told you that I particularly desired a dish of them to¬ 
day.” 

“ An’t please your excellency,” replied the servant; 
“ there were none to be had in the island. The fisher¬ 
men have been out the whole of last night, and all to-day; 
and they have only just returned with scarcely^sufficient 
for a dish.” 

“ Well; let them be dressed immediately. They are 
never so good as when they are fresh from the water. 
Quick!” 

The well-powdered, silk-stockinged Stevens, was pro¬ 
ceeding to give the necessary orders ; but he had not 
reached the door when Sir-called him back. 

“ Did you say they were very scarce—none to be had 
on the island?” 

“ I did, an’t please your excellency ; and the fishermen 
tell me that they will be able to procure none, so long as 
this wind continues.” 

* Sir-named a sort of small fish, somewhat resembling our 

smelt; which is caught on the coast of St. Helena, and is thought to 
rival the famousjwhite bait of Blackwall in delicacy. Its name I have, 
unfortunately, forgotton; but it is extremely scarce, and to be caught 
only at particular seasons; when the weather is very fine, and the 
water placid. 


I 











52 


THE MIDDY. 


“ Indeed? A pretty long look-out at the present season 
certainly ! Well; I shan’t have them dressed. See that 
they are properly packed up ; and sent off immediately to 
the general, at Longwood, with my compliments. And 
take care that the bearer make my best respects ; with a 
suitable apology for the fish being so few in number.” 

So long as the servants continued in the room, and 
“ . . _ 
even so long as the ladies remained at table; the name of 

the ex-emperor, by a sort of tacit consent, was never 

alluded to. When the latter, however, had removed to 

the drawing-room, the conversation became more general ; 

and it turned chiefly on this engrossing topic. 

“Have you seen Napoleon to-day, Sir -?” said 

General-; * addressing the governor. 

“ I was at Longwood by appointment, at two o’clock 

this afternoon,” replied Sir -; “ and I was kept 

waiting in the ante-room for nearly an hour, before I was 
admitted to his presence.” 

“ Was he affable?” inquired the general. 

“ Quite the reverse. He scarcely ever opened his lips; 
and when he did so, it was only to make an abrupt answer 
to some pointed question. I touched upon every topic 
which I thought could interest him ; but all to no purpose. 
I offered him the perusal of a file of English papers, which 
I had brought with me; but he declined them : saying he 
had plenty of journals of his own. At length finding all 
attempts at conversation vain, I rose to take my leave ; 
and in doing so, I asked if there was anything I could do 
to oblige him ‘ Rien! rien de tout!' he replied ; shrugging 
his shoulders significantly, but without rising from his 
chair. And so our interview ended.” 

“Not much, I dare say, to the satisfaction of either party,” 
observed the general. 

“ At least not much, I believe, to his,” replied Sir-. 

“ For my own part, I have many allowances to make for 
him. To be hurled from the throne of the first nation in 
Europe, and made a perpetual prisoner on an isolated spot 
like this; is a change of fortune by no means easy to be 

General — was not stationed at St. Helena ; but was on his 
return to England from India. 












THE MIDDY. 


53 


borne. It would be enough to sour the temper of the 
most calm and philosophic ; far more of a man, whose 
ruling passion is ambition, and the love of power. That 
he should look upon me with jealousy and suspicion, the 
office which I hold renders natural; and I do not blame 
him for it. But it certainly is hard ; that, after bearing 
with all his taunts and insults, and doing every thing in 
my power to gratify his humours, in so far as is consistent 
with the trust reposed in me, 1 should be upbraided by 
my countrymen, whose good opinion I value so much, as 
being ungenerous and tyrannical ; as trampling, as it were, 
upon a fallen foe. God knows he never was foe of mine; 
unless in as far as he was the foe of my country. I have 
no personal pique to gratify ; on the contrary, I have always 
admired him in the only capacities in which 1 have had 
occasion to know him ; as a gallant soldier, a talented and 
enterprising man. But I must do my duty even at the 
risk of my popularity.” 

“Had the tables been turned,” said the general; “ and 
had you been Napoleon’s prisoner; I believe he would 
have cashiered any governor, who showed you one-half 
the attention that you show him.” 

“ There, I think, you wrong him, general,” said Sir 

-. “ Napoleon’s disposition is naturally generous ; 

and I do not believe he would have permitted any prisoner 
of war to be maltreated with his knowledge.” 

“ I shall not argue the point with you,” rejoined the 
general; “ but I believe I speak intelligibly to many here, 
who served against him ; when I say, that I was myself 
for some time a guest at Verdun !” 

The conversation proceeded for some time in this strain; 
and we were just about to leave the table, when the butler 
entered the room. 

“ Were the fish sent, as I desired, Stevens ?” said 
Sir-. 

“ They were, your excellency.” 

“ Did the general return any answer?” 

“ He has returned the fish by the bearer, your excel¬ 
lency ; exactly as they were sent.” 

“ Returned them !—how ! Did he send no message 
with them?” 


5 * 









54 


THE MIDDY. 


“ Monsieur Cypriani informed the servant, that ‘ the 
emperor desired it might be intimated to your excellency, 
that he was not in the habit of being supplied with fish 
no bigger than his thumb!' ” 

“ Oh ! very well! See that they are dressed for dinner 
to-morrow ; and tell the cook to be liberal with the cay¬ 
enne.” 

“ Well,” said Sir-, when the servant had left the 

room; “ the general knows he may insult me with impu¬ 
nity !” 

We now left the table, and proceeded to the drawing¬ 
room ; where each spent the remainder of the evening as 
his taste inclined him ; with cards, music, or conversa¬ 
tion. 

The gay cornet of dragoons, having washed down his 
chagrin at the battu expose, with plenteous potations of 
claret, immediately took up his position beside Sophia; 
who was seated at the piano when we entered. I bit my 
lip with vexation, at having thus allowed myself to be 
out-generalled by the coxcomb ; but, assuming the ap¬ 
pearance of indifference, I joined in conversation with the 
old general on the old topic of Napoleon. 

At length Lady-proposed a dance. 

“ May I have the honour of your hand ?” said the cor¬ 
net to Sophia. 

Sophia curtsied an acquiescence; and as she took his 
arm, I thought she looked at me. I felt all the inclination 
in the world to knock the cornet down. 

“ We are to dance a quadrille,* Mr.-,” said her 

ladyship; addressing the superb sportsman of the battu; 
“ and, from the exhibition we had the other evening, I 
believe you cannot rate quadrille dancing as one of your 
numerous accomplishments. As for you, Sophia, I have 
told you already that I will not have my drawing-room 
converted into a dancing-school; so I think you had bet¬ 
ter look out for another partner.” 

The crest-fallen cornet looked unutterably foolish ; 

At the time of which I speak, quadrilles had been newly intro¬ 
duced in England ; and dancing them was not then so common an 
accomplishment as it is now. Thanks to the female branch of my 
lamily; my education in this respect had not been neglected. 







THE MIDDY. 


55 


* 

bowed, and dropped Sophia’s arm. I was at her side in 
an instant; she accepted me as a partner; and I trium¬ 
phantly took my place beside her in the dance. 

Every one knows that, excepting the shade of the lone 
greenwood tree, or the bustle of a crowded dinner-table; 
the side of a quadrille is the best of all possible situations 
for saying “ soft things.” When I first saw Sophia, I 
thought she was beautiful; as I sat beside her at table, I 
thought she was charming; I now considered her quite 
enchanting ; and, after a dozen rounds of the giddy waltz, 
I was downright in love. 

The evening passed with incredible celerity; and it 
was by no means a pleasant announcement, when my uncle 
informed me that it was time to go. 

As I took leave of Sophia, I fancied her hand pressed 
mine. My blood thrilled in every vein ; and with a rapid 
parting glance, I rushed from the apartment. 

“ Well, Ned,” said my uncle, as he showed me to my 
bed-room, “ do you regret having gone to Plantation 
House ?” 

“ On the contrary, sir; I have been quite delighted.— 

Sir- was delightful; Lady -- was delightful ; the 

old genera! was delightful --” 

“ And Sophia not vary disagreeable, I suppose,” said 
my uncle; interrupting me in my list ofdelightfuls. “Well, 
all I have to say is ; take care of yourself. Remember 
that you have only a week to spend here ; and that then you 
must leave St. Helena, and every one in it—perhaps for 
ever. Don’t forget that , my lad ; and so good night to 
you,” 



\ 












56 


THE MIDDY. 


CHAPTER VI. 

TENDER REMINISCENCES. 

Nature all] 

Wears to the lover’s eye a look of love; 

And all the tumult of a guilty world, 

Tost by ungenerous passions, sinks away. 

Thomson. 

Next day displayed the beauties of the place to advan¬ 
tage ; it was bright, sunny, and intensely hot. 

My uncle’s residence was certainly a most delightful 
one. The house, which consisted of only one story, was 
elevated a few feet above the surface of the ground ; upon 
a broad platform of polished marble. The ledge of the 
wide over-hanging eaves was supported by a range of airy l 
pillars ; which were clustered with the delicate tendrils of 
the passion-flower, and formed an agreeable verandah 
round the whole extent of the building. A row of beau¬ 
tiful orange trees, with flowers and fruit in all stages of 
maturity, adorned the stone parterre in front; and exhaled 
a most aromatic and delicious perfume. 

An open space of brilliant velvety green-sward expanded 
itself before the house ; sloping gently downwards to the 
distance of about fifty yards ; where it was lost beneath 
the shade of an extensive grove of cedars and palm-trees. 
In the distance, the heights of Ladder Hill and High 
Knoll shot up into the sky ; the pure atmosphere and bright 
sun investing their rugged sides and summits with a soft 
tint of ethereal blue; which formed a beautiful contrast to 
the bright verdure of the trees in the foreground. It was 
altogether a little paradise on earth ; formed to dream away 
the cares of an ungrateful world. 

But I was in no plight for admiring the beauties of rural 
nature : and, at that thoughtless season, few were the cares 
I had to dream away. The whole night I had thought of 
nothing but Sophia: and every hour seemed an age till I 
should again be at her side. 










THE MIDDY. 


57 


My uncle, who had his various duties to attend to, left 
me soon after breakfast; telling me to amuse myself as I 
thought proper, and to command the services of Nestor. 

Accordingly, at as early an hour as etiquette would per¬ 
mit, I presented myself at Plantation House. Sir - 

was gone out; Lady-had not yet appeared. 

“ I will step into the drawing-room,” I said to the ser¬ 
vant; “and wait for Lady-. But pray don’t disturb 

her ladyship, on my account, before her usual hour.” 

Without the precaution of being formally ushered ; I 
gently opened the door and walked into the apartment. 

Sophia was there, alone. With her back turned to the 
door by which I entered ; she was seated at a small fly- 
table, apparently engaged in drawing. A box of colours 
and brushes, and a small crystal ewer with water, stood 
before her. The low-sash windows were thrown open to 
admit the cool air ; and a gentle orange-perfumed breeze 
played among her clustering ringlets. She stooped 
slightly over the table ; and I could perceive, by the reflec¬ 
tion in an opposite mirror, that she was eagerly intent on 
her occupation. 

I stood for a few moments still and motionless, incapable 
of any thing but admiration ; for surely there never lighted 
on this orb a more lovely vision than that before me ! 

Suddenly, a gust of wind passing through the open case¬ 
ment, rustled among the airy folds of the gauze window- 
hangings. Sophia looked up; her eye fell upon the mir¬ 
ror ; and there I stood discovered and abashed. A slight 
blush suffused her countenance; as, without turning 
round, she hastily collected her drawings, and secured them 
in the portfolio. 

I moved instinctively up to the place where she sat; 
looking, I dare say, as I felt, inexpressibly foolish. 

“ This is an unexpected visit, Mr. Lascelles,” she said ; 
without looking up; and apparently intent on fastening 
the silver clasp of the embroidered portfolio. “ I was not 
aware, sir, that you were in the room.” 

“ I sincerly ask your pardon, madam,” I replied. “ The 
servant informed me there was no one here; and I un¬ 
fortunately dispensed with the formality of an usher. If 
I am in the slightest degree interrupting you, I shall im« 












THE MIDDY. 


58 


mediately withdraw ; and I can only apologise for an in¬ 
trusion which, I assure you, was by no means intended. 

She laid the portfolio on the table as I spoke; and the 
enchanting smile, which was so peculiarly her own, re¬ 
sumed its place upon her features. 

“ You do not interrupt me at all, Mr. Lascelles,” she 
said ; “ I assure you, you do not. I was only a little 
startled by your sudden appearance. We ladies, you 
know, have the privilege of taking alarm at trifles ; and, 
when I saw your shadow in the mirror, it was almost as 
trying for the nerves, as a scene in the Castle of Otranto. 
But now that you are here, I bethink me you come quite 
apropos; as I particularly wish your judgment on some 
sketches of English scenery, which I have lately received 
from home.” r 

The drawings were produced, canvassed, and criticised. 11 
We sat side by side at the table; leaning over the sheets, and J 
pointing out their beauties and defects. The scenes which ‘ 
they represented recalled to each of us varied trains of 
pleasing association. I pointed out to Sophia the very 
streams that I had angled, and the fields over which I 
had followed the fox ; while she showed me the mansion 
in which she had spent her childhood, and the garden in 
which she had tended her flowers. 

How long we were thus occupied I know not; for time 
passed unheeded by. At length Sophia, touching the 2 
spring of a gold repeater that hung at her side, said it was 


time to prepare for her afternoon’s ride. 

“ Sir-,” she said, “ has requested his aid-de-camp, 


Mr. Tunbridge, to attend me at a particular hour ; and 
the worthy old gentleman does not like to be kept 
waiting.” 

“Perhaps,” she continued with an arch smile, as she 
rose to bid me adieu; “perhaps you will remain to see 
Lady -. You will find Bishop Tillolson, and the 


latest series of the Beau Monde, on the next table. Her ! 
ladyship, I should think, will emerge from her boudoir in 
about an hour!” And with an airy trip she glided from 
the room. 


Without the slightest intention of waiting for Lady- 


but at the same time not exactly knowing what I wished 







THE MIDDY. 


59 


I, to do, I remained for the present where I was ; sadly 
tormented with the idea of the aid-de-camp, in whom I 
e fancied I had found another rival. It was true, Sophia 
>, had called him “ old ;” but then she might have called 
him so in joke ; and, besides, she coupled with that appel- 
e lation, the epithet “ worthy.” 

e The “ green-eyed monster” was busy in my bosom; 
j and I was already jealous of a man whom I had never 
I seen. 

J I tortured my imagination in picturing him to myself. 

, I fancied him a man, not old, but elderly : say thirty-five; 
j with a fine portly figure, piercing black eyes, clear dark 
e complexion, and clustering, jetty hair. There was cer- 
j tainly, I thought, some disparity in their ages; but then 
there was nothing extraordinary in a young woman falling 
in love with a man of his description ; who, perhaps, added 
j to his other good qualities, extreme amiability and graceful 
] accomplishments. 

j “ I will, at least, see this man,” I said to myself; with 
all the haughty boiling in my veins which becomes a love- 
[ sick youngster; and, thrusting my hand into my bosom, 
I elevated my head ; looking all the while, I doubt not, 
unutterably fierce; and strutted off to the window to cool 
my burning brow in the summer breeze. 

What was to be done when I had seen this formidable 
aid-de-camp, never once entered into my consideration. 

The window at which I stood was clustered round with 
fragrant woodbine; and it opened into a beautiful flower-gar¬ 
den, which was hemmed in on the farther side by a dense 
thicket of luxuriant shrubs. The background of the pic¬ 
ture was occupied by a forest of tall trees ; over whose 
leafy tops were seen the waters of the placid ocean ; 
shining like a sheet of molten silver in the burning beams 
of the sun. In the universal stillness, I could distinctly 
hear the distant murmuring of the waves; as they chafed 
against the rocky cliffs on the coast. 

There was a calm summer-day serenity over the whole 
scene, which could not fail to impart itself to the feelings 
of the spectator; and even I, the jealous, love-sick mid¬ 
shipman of the Hesperus, submitted to its soothing influ¬ 
ence. But still my thoughts ranged upon the aid-de- 







60 


THE MIDDY. 


camp ; and the tall figure and Mars-like eye, which my 
fancy had conjured up as his ; were constantly obtruding 
themselves upon the lovely prospect before me. 

At length the door opened ; and the servant announced, 

“ Mr. Tunbridge.” 

I turned hastily round ; and a load was removed from 
my breast when 1 contemplated the figure before me. 

The real Mr. Tunbridge was very different from him ; 
whom my fancy had pictured. He was a tall, stiff, heavy-j 
shouldered, awkward-looking man, apparently about fifty-j 
five ; with an expression of countenance by no means ^ 
aristocratic; meaningless grey eyes, and shaggy, grizzled 1 ' 
eye-brows. His neck was so short, that he could scarcely 
be said to have one at all; and his head had consequently 
the appearance of being stuck upon his back; much in 
the same position, as that which our terrestrial globe 
occupies upon the brawny shoulders of atlas. His 
straight, wiry hair, which had entirely forsaken the front 
part of his wrinkled sconce, was nourished at the back 
till it had attained a somewhat unreasonable length ; and 
the stiff collar of his military coat, pressing it up from 
beneath, gave it an outward direction; and caused it to 
assume much the same shape as the expanded tail of a 
strutting turkey-cock. 

In one hand he bore his regimental foraging-cap, in the 
other a silver tipped riding-whip ; and his blue trousers, 
with their glaring red side-stripes, were fastened beneath 
his huge boots by means of a pair of steel chains, which 
somewhat resembled the curb of a horse’s bridle. 

Altogether, he was a figure that would have inspired the 
pencil of Hogarth ; one of the few caricatures which we 
occasionally meet with in real life. As soon as I saw him 
the indignation of offended dignity gave place in my breast 
to an irresistible inclination to laugh; and yet there was 
a something in the general appearance of the man, which 
in a great measure restrained this propensity; an inde-i 
scribable something, which seemed to indicate that he was 
“ an honest fellow.” 

I had scarcely time to make these observations on the 
person of my dreaded rival; when Sophia entered, in her> 
riding costume. It consisted of a plain English riding- 







THE MIDDY. 


61 


habit, hat, anil veil. She looked more fascinating than 
ever. 

“ Good morning to you, Mr. Tunbridge,” she said ; 
addressing herself to the aid-de-camp. “ Allow me to 
introduce to you Mr. Lascelles ; midshipman in his Ma¬ 
jesty’s ship Hesperus, and nephew of your friend Colonel 

-. The patient young gentleman has been waiting 

here these three hours on purpose to see Lady-; and 

I believe he intends to wait another.” 

“ I almost despair of seeing her ladyship now,” said 
I; “and I had intended to ask if you would honour me 
so far, as to permit me to be one of your riding party. 
My horse is already at the door.” 

“ Oh! impossible, Mr. Lascelles,” replied Sophia; 

“ that would be rude to Lady-. Besides, my little 

genet could never keep pace with the Colonel’s Nestor ; 
could he, Mr. Tunbridge?” 

“ I fear not, Miss Sophia,” replied Tunbridge ; “unless 
indeed the gentleman rein Nestor well in. I recollect 
that horse in England ; and I once saw him run a sweep- 
stakes steeple-chase. It was over a very difficult country ; 
and he was ridden by Yorkshire Dick, who carried weight. 
This was before the Colonel bought him, Mr. Lascelles ; 
he belonged then to Squire Hartree. Well, as I said ; it 
was a very difficult country, and Yorkshire Dick carried 
weight. Who cares ! off they all started-” 

“ Mr. Tunbridge, you see, is quite of my opinion,” 
said Sophia ; interrupting the aid-de-camp, who evidently 
intended to inflict upon us the whole details of the steeple¬ 
chase ; “ and no man is a better judge of a horse’s powers 
than he. But you can amuse yourself very well till her 
ladyship appears. I assure you, you cannot now have 
much more than an hour to wait. For example, I think 
you could not do better than devote the time to the perusal 
of an eloquent discourse of Bishop Tillotson ; which I shall 
be glad to point out to you. Ah ! here it is,” she con¬ 
tinued ; taking up the book. “You seethe subject is 
Resignation and she glanced archly in my face, as she 
placed her beautiful finger on the word. 

“ But I shall rein Nestor in, ma’am,” I said eagerly; 

vol. i.—6 










62 


THE MIDDY. 


“ on my honour I shall! I can make him go as devoutly 
as a dray horse.” 

“ What say you, Mr. Tunbridge ? You see Mr. Las- 
celles is importunate.” 

“ Why, ma’am,” replied Tunbridge, “ I know Nestor 
was excellently well trained; and, as he is naturally of a 1 
mild temper, I don’t think the gentleman can have much 
difficulty in making him go our pace. He was first put 
in the bridles by black Jem, at Thornton Castle ; where 

he was bred. His sire was the famous-and Mr. 

Tunbridge was entering into the history of Nestor’s pedi¬ 
gree, when Sophia again interrupted him. 

“ Well, Mr. Lascelles ; if you will promise to ride very 
slow; for Mr. Tunbridge and I always ride very slow; I 
suppose we may as well allow you to go with us.” 

I bowed in recognition of the favour; and the horses 
being announced, we proceeded to mount. 

Lightly, and before I had time to render her any assist¬ 
ance, Sophia vaulted into her saddle; the beautiful 
chesnut genet curvetting beneath her, as if proud of its 
burden. Nor was it long till I bestrode the bounding 
Nestor; and was at her side. 

But mounting was no such easy matter for the bulky 
Tunbridge; and I almost laughed outright to see the 
unwieldy attempts he made to get his foot into the stirrup ; 
preparatory to rolling his huge carcase on the back of his 
tall, gaunt troop-horse. 

“ Poor fellow!” said Sophia, as she observed my ten¬ 
dency to merriment; “ he was wounded in the left knee 
by a musket shot at Marengo.” 

The expression of her countenance, as she uttered these 
words, was so exquisitely benignant; that I felt humbled 
at the idea of my own ill-timed risibility. 

It was agreed that we should ride towards the town ; and 
as we were ambling gently down the avenue, Tunbridge 
got fairly embarked in a detailed description of the battle 
of Austerlitz; which promised to last the whole of the 
way. He had just arrived at the advance of the right wing 
of the imperial troops, and was proceeding to the corre¬ 
sponding movement of Napoleon; when Sophia, who I 
saw was plotting something, suddenly interrupted him. 


t 








THE MIDDY. 


63 


“ I have just been thinking, Mr. Tunbridge,” she said; 

“ that though Nestor is considerably taller than my Pala- 
fox, he is not by any means so fleetly shaped about the 
limbs ; and I am almost confident that he has not so much 
speed. I feel strongly inclined to try him a race.” 

“ You had better not, Miss Sophia,” said Tunbridge; 

“ you are sure to be beaten. I’ve seen Nestor run as I 
told you ; and at great disadvantage—Yorkshire Dick 
I carrying weight, and the country being extremely difficult; 
but there was not a horse in the field could come near 
him. To be sure, Squire Thornton’s Sir Ralph, who is 
reckoned the fastest horse in England—that is, always 
barring the turf—came, at one time, pretty close; but 
then-” 

“ Well, I don’t care,” cried Sophia; “ I’m determined 
to try. Come, Mr. Lascelles; have you any objections ?” 
And shaking the reins upon her palfrey’s neck, she bounded 
off at full gallop. 

“ Not a fair start! not a fair start!” cried Tunbridge ; 
entering into the full spirit of the scene ; and driving the 
spurs into his steady old grey. “ Forward ! Mr. Lascelles 
forward ; and take the inside of the road at the turn—it’s 
your only chance. Bless us, how that Palafox runs! 
And when you come to the hill, don’t forget to time Nes¬ 
tor properly—his wind’s his weakest point—and be sure 
you give him bridle when-.” 

But the latter part of the exordium was lost; for, put¬ 
ting Nestor to his speed, I was soon out of hearing. 

I looked back before the winding of the road shut him 
entirely from our view ; and I saw the honest fellow la¬ 
bouring away with his spurs, and waving his cap in the 
air ; at a great distance behind. 

“ He’s a worthy man, that Tunbridge,” said Sophia; 
when 1 was once more at her side. “ But oh ! his stories 
are insufferable.” 

“ He’s very fond of sport, however,” I rejoined. “ I 
saw him, cap in hand ; hallooing behind us, like a hunts¬ 
man at view.”, 

“ If you knew the story of that poor fellow, Mr. Las¬ 
celles ; "you would love him in spite of all his absurdities. 
The next time you have three hours to spend in waiting 








64 - 


THE MIDDY. 


for Lady-, I shall tell it you. But see ! my Palafox 

is a full neck a-head of Nestor; so, as I presume you 
confess yourself beaten, we had better rein up, and proceed 
at an amicable amble.” 

As she spoke, we reached a point where the road di¬ 
verged in two different directions. 

“ The road to the right leads to Longwood,” said So¬ 
phia ; “ and I think we had better follow it. It is much 
more interesting than the other.” 

“ But Mr. Tunbridge,” said I, “ supposes we are going 
townwards.” 

“ No matter. He has business in the town at any rate ; . 
and then we shall be rid of his interminable stories.” 

Leaving Mr. Tunbridge in the lurch, therefore, we took 
the road to Longwood ; proceeding at a brisk pace, and 
receiving the salutes of piquets and sentinels as we passed; 
all of whom seemed to recognise my fair companion as 
the inmate of Plantation House. 

The residence of the ex-emperor has been so often and 
minutely described, that I shall not dwell on its localities. , 
We rode round the house, and skirted the garden. 

“ Do you see that little man,” said Sophia ; “ stooping 
over a flower-bed, and propping the stem of a China 
rose ?” 

I replied that I did. 

“ That is Napoleon !” said she ; and, as she spoke, the 
conqueror rose from his stooping posture, and contem¬ 
plated his work. 

He was dressed in a loose grey frock, large military 
boots, and the ever-memorable three-cornered hat. I 
gazed upon him for a moment with intense earnestness ; 
till, suddenly raising his eyes, he observed us ; and, fold¬ 
ing his arms upon his breast, he strode away into the 
house. 

Our ride lasted for nearly two hours ; and more delight¬ 
ful hours I never spent. 

At length we turned our horses’ heads towards Planta¬ 
tion House ; but the nearer we approached home, the more 
we abated our speed. From a brisk gallop we fell into a 
cautious hand-canter; then into an amble, then into a walk; 
and before we reached the avenue, we were going so slow 
as scarcely to make any progress at all. 





THE MIDDY. 


65 


Suddenly turning an angle of the road, we were sur¬ 
prised to see, at some distance before us, the grey steed 
of honest Tunbridge fastened to a tree ; beneath the plea¬ 
sant shade of which his master was comfortably seated, 
reading a newspaper. As soon as he was aware of onr 
approach, he started to his feet; and putting his hand to 
his mouth, by way of a speaking trumpet, he bellowed 
out, at the top of his voice, “ Mr. Lascelles ! did Nestor 
beat ?” 

“ No !” I replied, in the same loud tone: and the aid- 
de-camp shook his head, and resumed his paper. 

“ I could have sworn it,” he said, as soon as we were 
arrived opposite to him. “ I told you at first it was not a 
fair start! There’s not a horse in St. Helena will beat 
Nestor with fair play; I could stake my commission on 
it! Gracious ! how he did run that steeple-chase ; and 
Yorkshire Dick carrying weight too! The first fence he 
came to, was a stone wall six feet high ; with a five-foot 
ditch on either side. Pooh ! what was that ! over he 
went like a greyhound. He then came to the canal; we 
measured it, and it was fifteen yards good. Yorkshire 
Dick gave him the spur; and-” 

“But, Mr. Tunbridge,” said Sophia; “what an odd 
place this is to read a newspaper; could you not have 
taken it with you home ?” 

“Very true, Miss Sophia; I could have taken it home. 
But I wanted to hear who beat; so I sat down quietly 
here, and waited till you came up. But I knew how it 
would be ! I’ll maintain it to the last it was not a fair 
start! If you had only let me give the time ! Nestor’s 
limbs ! did you say, Miss Sophia ? Why there is not a 
better limbed horse in the universe; his sire and dam 
were both famous for their proportions.” 

During this address the worthy aid-de-camp had ma¬ 
naged to raise himself into the saddle; and, having depo¬ 
sited my fair companion in safety at Plantation House, l 
proceeded with all despatch towards my uncle’s residence. 


6* 









6G 


THE MIDDY. 


CHAPTER VII. 

CRUISING TO WINDWARD. 

Ach ! dass sie doch ewig bliebe, 

Die schone Zeit der ersten Liebe ! 

Schiller# 

I have bustled about too much in this weary world of 
tears and strife ; and I have seen too much of its hypocri- 
cies, its deceits, its disappointments ; to be all tinged with 
sentimentalism. But still I cannot plead exemption from 
the common feelings of humanity ; and I confess that I 
never look back on what Schiller calls “ the beautiful sea¬ 
son of first love,” without being conscious of, at least a 
passing feeling, of something like regret. 

It is true, my St. Helena attachment was a childish 
one. Unlike the better judged and more durable affec¬ 
tions of maturer years, its impression passed speedily 
away amid the stirring bustle of active life; and its place 
was as speedily supplied by others, no less evanescent than 
itself. But for the time, it exalted me to the seventh 
heaven. Like the Lesbian of old, I was “blest as the 
immortal godsand shall I be blamed for regretting 
these sublimated feelings of unmixed delight ; which are 
only experienced during that happy season when all is 
confidence and hope, and when no painful knowledge of 
the world clouds the fairy scenes of our bright and sunny 
existence. 

During my residence on shore, my time was spent al¬ 
most solely at Plantation House ; and with Sophia. 

Being looked upon as children ; and, after all, what were 
we else ; we were allowed to enjoy each other’s society 
without interruption. Side by side we traversed on horse¬ 
back the green savannas and rugged steeps of the island ; 
or explored on foot the shady dingles of the woods. We 
culled posies of wild-flowers ; we plaited garlands ; we 
gathered fruit; and joined in a thousand other childish 






THE MIDDY. 


67 

pastimes. No matter how frivolous the occupation ; it 
was invested with a surpassing interest if we engaged in 
it in each other’s company. 

And then, we were for the most part alone. The gay- 
cornet, finding his place occupied, had prudently aban¬ 
doned the field ; and, though we were usually attended in 
our walks and rides by the trusty Tunbridge, we soon be¬ 
gan to consider him as nobody. 

But time passed on ; and the day on which I was to go 
on board arrived. 

YV ith a heavy heart I packed up my velise, and gave it 
in charge to the orderly who was to accompany me to the 
town. Nestor stood ready at the door; and, having taken 
an affectionate leave of my uncle, I mounted, and proceed¬ 
ed on my way. 

Arrived opposite the avenue of Plantation House, I gave 
my horse in charge to my attendant; and ordered him to 
await my return. It was not long till I stood in the en¬ 
trance-hall. 

“ Sir — — is gone to Longwood, sir,” said the servant; 
“ and Lady-is at present driving out.” 

“ And Miss-?” I inquired. 

“ Miss-felt rather unwell this morning, sir; and 

did not accompany her ladyship. I believe she is at pre¬ 
sent in the garden.” 

To the garden I accordingly proceeded. Up one walk 
and down another I ran with impatient haste; but no So¬ 
phia was to be seen. 

At length I bethought me of an arbour, in which we had 
spent many happy hours; and I hastened thither. Sophia 
was there. She sat with her elbow leaning on the rustic 
table; her delicate hand was passed across her forehead, 
and shaded her eyes. She was simply habited in white ; 
a garland of roses, which I had twined for I er some days 
before, was interwoven among her hair ; and its faded 
flovvefs formed a melancholy contrast to the bright colours 
of the jesmine and honeysuckle, which hung in gay fes¬ 
toons from the trellissed roof of the arbour. 

Before her lay a book. It was a small French volume 
of botany ; which was usually kept in the garden for the 
use of those who were fond of flowers. 











63 


THE MIDDY. 


So absorbed did she appear in her meditations, that I 
stood close at her side before she was aware of my pre¬ 
sence. I stooped down, and whispered softly in her ear, 

“Sophia.” ~ # ' pm • • 

“ Edward !” she exclaimed; starting up and grasping 

my proffered hand. 

It was the first time she had addressed me by my Chris¬ 
tian name ; and the word must have fallen unconsciously 
from her lips; for a deep blush suffused her countenance 
the moment she pronounced it. To me it was the sweet¬ 
est music I had ever heard. 

“ Yes, Sophia,” I said ; “ I am come to take leave of 
vou. I must join the ship this afternoon.” 

Her hand still lay in mine ; she bent her eyes upon the 
ground, and was silent. 

“ But we shall meet again, and in happiness,” I conti¬ 
nued: “Meanwhile, may Heaven protect you !” 

She raised her hand as I spoke ; and, plucking a sprig 
of white jesmine in full flower, she fastened it on my breast. 

“ And is this all, Sophia ?” I said. Have you no adieu; 
no kind parting word to say to me ?” 

“ Ah!” she replied ; “that jesmine spray says much ! 
Do you not understand the language of flowers?” 

She took up the small French volume from the table, as 
she spoke; and opening it, she pointed to the word Jas¬ 
min blanc. Opposite.to this was written L'amitie. 

“And now,” said she; “adieu, and may God go with 
you !” 

She pressed my hand as her trembling voice gave utter¬ 
ance to this brief farewell; her cheek was pale as marble, 
and the tears streamed copiously from her eyes. 

“ Oh ! not thus ; I cannot leave you thus !” I exclaim¬ 
ed passionately ; and, clasping her in my arms, I imprinted 
a fervent kiss upon her lips; and rushed from the alcove. 

There are those, I doubt not, who will blame me for 
dwelling on so childish a scene as this. I admit that it is 
childish ; but it was deeply important to me at the time ; 
and I wish at present to give a transcript of what I then 
felt as a boy, not of what I now feel as a man. 

Soon after I left St. Helena,Sophia returned to England; 
where she became the belle, of Alrnack’s; “the admired 




THE MIDDY. 


69 


of all admirers.” Lively in spirits, winning in manners, 
lovely in person ; she has since caused many hearts to ache 
as sadly as mine did then ; and, amid the attractive gaieties 
of her age and sex, she speedily forgot the poor midship¬ 
man of the Hesperus. 

Such is the heart of youth ! Its affections are easily 
awakened ; and they fade as easily away. In the elegant 
language of Tasso ; 

Trapassano al trapassar d’un giorno ! 

When I arrived on board, I was in a state of most mis¬ 
erable dejection. My messmates flocked round, to wel¬ 
come me and ask the news. But I had not a word to say 
to them ; and, when they began to banter me for my low 
spirits, I could almost have leaped overboard for vexation. 

“Something strange must have happened to Widoe,” 
said one; “he has not a word to throw to a dog !” 

“ He must have lost all his money at play,” said an¬ 
other. 

“ Or been keelhauled by some she pirate in petticoats,” 
said a third. 

“ Gentlemen,” said I, sharply ; “I have no intention of 
telling you what's happened to me; nor have you any 
right to ask. I, therefore, beg to hear no more of the 
matter.” 

“ That was spoken like Widoe Wildfire himself,” said 
Strangways, who had just joined the group ; “ so I think, 
young gentlemen, your best policy is to sheer off; other¬ 
wise there may be broken heads among you.” 

One after another, my brother middies followed this 
friendly advice; and I was soon left to my own -medita¬ 
tions. 

For some days I continued in a state bordering on des¬ 
peration. Nothing oould interest me ; nothing could give 
me pleasure; but thinking of Sophia, and gazing on the 
only token of remembrance she had given me; the little 
sprig of white jesmine. And then my ideas were so ex¬ 
alted and romantic, that I scorned to think, or speak, or 
act, like other men. I could scarcely so much as give a 
common order to a seaman, but it was clothed in some 
sublime phraseology. 








70 


THE MIDDY. 


The following extract from my private journal, dated 
the day after mv arrival on board, has caused me many a 
laugh in later years. 

“ Onboard II. M. S. Hesperus, 

“ St. Helena. 

“ Once more tossed about upon the heaving billows of 
the boundless ocean ! [ the sea was , all the time , as smooth 
as a mirror] seeking for fame and fortune [_God knows, \ 
there was little prospect of either in those ‘ piping times 
of peace ’] amid the rude struggle of tempestuous elements ! 
Bubbles ! more empty and evanescent than the white sea- 
foam, that is annihilated the moment of its formation !— 
Fame ! what is it, after all; but to have one’s name inter¬ 
changed, for a few centuries after death, with the names 
of Drake and Nelson [a/as/ «/««.'] and a thousand more i 

of the other pretty names of Europe ; and then-why 

then to have it consigned, like the names of common men, 
to utter oblivion ! Yes! let Vanity and Ambition flatter 
themselves as they will, Oblivion, with her hollow, sight¬ 
less eyes, will come at last. At the touch of her destroy¬ 
ing hand, the monuments of the great will crumble away ; 
their fulsome inscriptions will be obliterated for ever.— 
The presumptuous piles of Westminster and St. Paul’s 
will be trodden to dust beneath her foot; she will rifle 
the gardens and ruin the towers, of even the most endur¬ 
ing of Fame’s gaudy temples ! What, then, does it mat¬ 
ter whether we are forgotten the moment we die ; or live 
on for a few hundred years [/] after the grave has closed 
on our remains ; in the remembrance of a posterity for 
whom we care not; of whose very existence we are, in 
some measure, uncertain ! And fortune ! O Sophia ! 
indigence and solitude with thee, were worth a thousand 
times all the luxuries wealth can purchase ; all the plea¬ 
sures society can afford ! But I hear the shrill note of 
that accursed Parsons, piping up the starboard watch. 

“ Midnight. 

“ At this solemn hour of silence and solitude ; while 
others are dreaming away in their sluggard beds, the little 
span of life allotted them here below; [ below in reality ,] 






THE MIDDY. 


71 


let me revel in luxurious reminiscences of Sophia ! O 
thou angel! brighter than the brightest seraph that ever 
glided through the regions of the sky ; how unworthy am 
I of a love so pure as thine ! But I shall strive to merit 
it; and the remembrance of those sighs, those tears of 
! thine, will ever awaken in my bosom a desire for the 
glorious and the good ! 

|, “ Shed but one tear ere I depart, 

• A drop to sooth my bosom’s pain ; 

I’ll shrine the treasure in my heart, 

And it shall wake my smiles again. - 

- * — 'i r • « 

“ Breathe but one sigh of fond regret. 

While sorrow’s tear shall mutely fall; 

Enough ! I see those eyes are wet (!) 

Those precious drops pay me for all! 

“ The encircling arms which late entwined, 

In joy, thy sylph-like beauteous form ; 

Must now engage the furious wind, 

And brave the buffets of the storm. 

“ Again ! again! that last caress; 

Repeat once more that kind adieu ! 

When care and dangers round me press, 

Fond memory still shall turn to you!” 

Here, indeed, I doubt not the reader will exclaim, is a 
pretty compound of bombastic jargon! I admit that it is 
so ; but, nevertheless, at the time when I wrote it, I con¬ 
fess I considered it “ very fine !” Indeed, as far as the 
verses I have just quoted are concerned, old reminiscences 
still maintain in me a sort of lingering attachment to them. 
For thejn, therefore, I crave the reader’s indulgence ; and 
I hope that when he meets with such elegant expressions 
as “ those eyes are wet,” or “ engage the furious wind,” 
he will pass them over with a smile. 

Neither, I trust, will any one “ accuse me of poetry:” 
which, God knows, is no sin of mine. In penning the 
above pathetic lines , I was merely fulfilling what Lord 
Byron considered to be the destiny of all men ; “ once to 
be in love and write verses.” But to proceed. 

No occupation can be imagined more truly insipid, 
than serving on board a ship that is doomed to “ mount 
guard no matter under what circumstances. Cruising 






THE MIDDY. 


72 


to windward of St. Helena war most awful drudgery. • 
Day after day nothing but the same tedious routine ; beat¬ 
ing to one end of the island, and then running back again ; 
or making and shortening sail in pursuit of passing vessels. 

It was a happy day for all ol us when we were at length 
recalled; and ordered to proceed to the Cape. 

As we were running round to take up our station in the 
roadstead ; previous to our iinal departure ; a strange sail 
hove in sight, without any distinguishing colours. We 
immediately gave her chase ; and, as she did not attempt 
to elude us, we were speedily within hail. 

“ Ship ahoy !” cried Strangways ; who was an adept 
at the speaking-trumpet. 

She immediately gave the appropriate response. 

“ What ship’s that ?” 

“ An American.” 

“ Where are you bound to?” 

“ The Cape.” 

“ Where are your colours ?” 

“ Riven to bits in a gale, I reckon.” 

“ Have you not another set ?” 

“ We have.” 

“ Hoist them instantly.” 

“ Can’t, I calculate.” 

“ Why ?” 

“ They’re stowed away, and we cant find them, be¬ 
cause !” 

“ Heave to, till I send a boat aboard.” 

She accordingly hove to ; and, a boat being lowered, 
Captain Morley,* Settler, and one of the midshipmen, 
proceeded on board. 

The examination of the credentials occupied some time; 
and both vessels meanwhile drifted, and came opposite 
Bankes’s Battery. 

Strangways and myself were standing on the quarter- 


i 


I 




1 




* Every seaman knows that it is customary for a lieutenant, and not 
for the captain, to board a vessel under such circumstances as I have 
described the American; and that in case of anything suspicious being 
found in the credentials, the merchant master returns with him to the 
naval captain. Suffice it to say, that Captain Morley had his reasons 
for going on board himselfon the present occasion. 









' 

THE MIDDY. 73 

deck, looking towards the shore, when suddenly we saw 
a vivid flash upon the battlements of the battery; and, to 
our infinite surprise, a heavy shot dipped into the water 
immediately under our bows. 

“ Hoist the pendants !”* cried Strangways. “ Sharp’s 
the word!” 

The men were in the act of running up the pendants 
with all possible despatch, when another flash was seen 
upon the battery ; and an accompanying shot whistled 
through the American’s rigging. 

“ Get a gun instantly forward!” cried Strangways. “If 
that’s your game, my pretty gentlemen, I’ve no objections 
to have a rubber with you !” 

Strangways was himself actively engaged in helping to 
cast the gun loose, when a bit of slow match, which he 
L held in his hand, set fire to the priming! OflT she went 
with an echoing report; and the nine-pound shot hitting 
just above the fort, which is situated on the side of what 
is called the Rocky Hill, the fragments of loose stone 
came rattling down, to the no small discomfiture, as we 
afterwards learned, of the garrison. 

“ Remember, Widoe,” said Strangways to me, “ that 
was pure accident .” 

“ Oh ! of course, sir,” I replied ; “ and the gun point¬ 
ing herself.” 

“ To be sure she did ; a child might have noticed it!” 

The pendants were now streaming mast high in the 
breeze ; and the fort accordingly did not attempt a re¬ 
joinder. 

“ What the devil’s the meaning of this, Mr. Strang¬ 
ways ?” said Captain Morley, as soon as he got on board. 
“ Did you fire upon the fort, sir?” 

“ The gun went off quite accidentally, sir.” 

“ How did that happen ?” 

* Every vessel on the cruising station had particular distinguishing 
pendants; which she was obliged to hoist when she passed any of the 
forts on the island ; in order that intelligence of her having been seen 
there might be forwarded to the interior. As we were not near the 
battery when we hove to to communicate with the American, but had 
drifted opposite to it; we had neglected this ceremony ; which was the 
cause of our being so sharply reminded of it. 

VOL. I.— 7 







74 


THE MIDDY. 


“ I chanced to have a bit of match in my hand, sir, and 
it came in contact with the priming.” 

“ A very good joke, Mr. Strangways ; but a deuced 
dangerous one. A complaint will certainly be made ; and 
can you say, upon your oath, sir, that the gun went off 
by accident ?” 

“ I don’t like making use of oaths, sir.” 

“ Aye, I thought as much. You’ve got us into a pretty 
scrape, sir; and how we’re to get clear of it I know not. 
Six weeks more cruising to windward will be the least 
of it. But how’s this?” he continued. “Your hand is 
bleeding, sir; let me see it!” 

“ Only a slight scratch I got by the recoil of the gun, 
sir,” replied Strangways, as he held up his hand for the 
captain’s examination. 

“I say it’s not a slight scratch, sir; its a wound! Get t 
down instantly to the doctor, sir, and have it dressed.” 

“ I assure you, sir, it’s only-” 

“ Assure me nothing about the matter, sir ! A pretty 
pass we’re coming to, if I’m to be contradicted in this 
way at every turn. I say it’s a wound , sir; and I’m de¬ 
termined it shall be a wound ! So get away, and do as I 
desire you ; and see you don’t appear for the next week 
without wearing it becomingly in a sling.” 

As soon as we arrived at our station, the captain lodged 
a formal complaint against the garrison of the fort, for 
firing on him after his pendants were hoisted ; and he at 
the same time returned “ one officer wounded .” 

A slight investigation, I believe, was made into the 
particulars; but the fort must have borne the blame, as 
we never heard any more of the matter. 











THE MIDDY. 


75 


J 


d 

d 

f 


CHAPTER VIII. 

ROBBING THE ADMIRAL. 


Take heed! take heed! and whisper low! 

Look out, and spread your nets with care ; 

The prey we seek we’ll soon ensnare. 

Massaniello. 


Before proceeding on our voyage to the Cape, the ship 
was to be provisioned and watered ; so we lay for a week 
snugly in the anchorage off St. James’s Valley; not very 
much burdened with business. 

My chief occupation, during this interval, was fishing 
for mackerel and stumps.*' We had three “stump-pots” 
constantly in use ; and the management and care of them 
was given over entirely to me. I was very assiduous at 
my post; and, having hit upon an excellent spot for sink¬ 
ing them, I was very successful; scarcely ever drawing a 
blank. At length, however, my good fortune forsook me; 
and for several days I did not catch a single stump. I 
was quite at a loss to divine the cause of this ; as I had 
used every precaution with regard to bait and situation; 
so I determined to watch my post more narrowly in future. 

Accordingly, one morning, having baited them care¬ 
fully, and sunk them at the usual spot; I rowed to the 
landing place, and went ashore ; ordering the men to leave 
me, and return for me in the afternoon. 

For several hours I skulked about among the rocks; 
keeping a careful eye on the buoys of my pots. At 
length, just about the dinner hour on board, a boat hove 
in sight which I knew to belong to the admiral; and, con- 


* Stumps are a species of lobster which are caught off the coast of 
St. Helena, and are esteemed a great delicacy. They are taken by 
means of a sort of wicker baskets called “ stump-pots which are let 
down underwater supplied with bait; and having been allowed to 
remain several hours, are drawn up, and the fish, if any, taken out. 
Of these “ stump pots,” every captain on the station had generally two 
or three in constant occupation. 








76 


THE MIDDY. 


ceaiing myself under the rocks, I watched her progress. 
The men pulled gently along the coast till they were over 
my stump-pots ; when they very coolly drew them ; took 
out the fish; and, having carefully lowered them again to 
their former position, they rowed oft’ to the flag-ship with 
their booty. 

The secret was now out; and when I returned on board, 
I related the whole circumstance to Captain Morely ; add¬ 
ing, that I thought a complaint should be made to the 
admiral. 

“ That would be of little use,” replied the captain. 
“ The truth is, the admiral very properly considers stumps 
a great delicacy; and he is not, perhaps, over scrupulous 
with regard to what particular pots they come from.” 

“ What shall I do then, sir?” said I. 

“ Do what you like, sir; only don’t ask me silly ques¬ 
tions. All I say is, get stumps to-night; and come to 
breakfast with me in the morning.” 

This hint of the captain I considered sufficiently broad ; 
and, accordingly soon after sunset I took a boat with four 
men, and proceeded once more to the fishing station. 

It was quite dark when we set off.; but before we ar¬ 
rived at our destination, the moon, which was in the first 
quarter, appeared over the top of Ladder Hill. It was a 
beautiful evening for mackerel-fishing ; and we were so 
successful, that before midnight we had stowed a large 
cargo of that fish aft. 

We now put up our lines, and rowed along the coast to 
the place where I knew the admiral’s stump-pots were 
lowered. As soon as we were over the buoy of the first 
of them ; I ordered the men to draw it. 

“ An’t please you, sir,” said one of the fellows ; “ this 
is the admiral’s stump-pot, sir !” 

“ I didn’t ask you whose stump-pot it was, you fool; I 
ordered you to draw it.” 

The stump-pot was drawn accordingly ; three beautiful 
fish were taken out; and it was then carefully lowered 
again to its former position. On we passed to the next, 
till we had emptied every one of them ; and we com¬ 
menced our progress towards the ship with nine fine 
stumps on board. 


THE MIDDY. 


77 


The moon was now pretty high ; and, as we were pull¬ 
ing along under the dark shadow of the overhanging rocks, 
a boat with six men hove suddenly in sight, round a pro¬ 
jecting promontory. 

“ That’s the admiral’s boat,” cried one of my men. 
“ Shiver my timbers, but we’re in for it now anyhow.” 

“ Never mind, my lad,” said I; “we must make the 
most of it. Hand me your jacket and hat, will you ?” 

I was speedily disguised in Jem’s monkey-jacket and 
tarpauling hat; and, the boat being a whale-boat, I took 
my station at the steei-oar ; directing the men to pull 
gently till the other boat came within hail. 

As the admiral’s party were in the full light of the moon, 
and we under the shadow of the rocks, I had some hopes 
that they might pass without observing us. In this, how¬ 
ever, I was deceived. Taking an unexpected turn shore¬ 
ward, they baffled my efforts to elude them; and they 
were in a few minutes within a couple of oars length 
of us. 

“Boat ahoy !” they hailed. 

“ Hilloa !” I replied. 

“ Have you been fishing ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ What sport ? any stumps going ?” 

“ Two or three; but nothing to speak of.” 

“ Where did you get them?” 

“ What the devil’s that to you ?” 

“ Oho my fine fellows ; that’s your tune, is it ? You’ve 
robbed our pots, by G—d !” 

No reply. 

“ Come, come, hand over the stumps sharp, do you 

hear; and no more about it.” 

“ See you d—d first! Find stumps for yourselves ! 
And we continued rowing gently on our course. 

“ By heaven, you shan’t get off this way, my fine fel¬ 
lows ; we’ll follow you to your ship. 

“ Very welcome. There she is, dancing merrily in 
the moonshine; the jolly old Hesperus. If you don’t 
know her, you’re pretty well acquainted with her stump- 
pots any how. Do you take, my fine fellows ?’’ 

My men were very anxious to make a regular fight ol it; 








78 


THE MIDDY". 


but I thought it better not to hazard this ; so we proceeded . 
gently towards the ship, followed nearly the whole way 
by the admiral’s boat; with which we kept up a flying 
colloquy of the same general nature as the above. Find¬ 
ing, however, that nothing was to be made of us, she at last 
retired ; giving us a heavy broadside of curses. 

According to invitation, 1 appeared in the morning in 
the captain’s cabin to breakfast; and, having presented 
my stumps, I gave him a minute detail of the whole pro¬ 
ceedings. 

“ Very well, youngster,” said he ; “ you must stand 
the brunt of it; and as it is the admiral you’ve been 
pillaging, I fancy it will be no easy matter.” 

“ Perhaps, sir,” said I, “ as you would not like to be 
embroiled in the affair, I had better take the stumps to 
the midshipmen’s berth. I’ve no doubt we’ll be able to 
discuss them there.” 

“ No, no,” said Morley, “ there’s no necessity for that. 
Leave the stumps where they are in the meantime.” 

An ardent attack was now commenced upon the salt 
junk and other eatables ; and no more notice was taken of 
the stumps. 

“ We must proceed to water the ship to-day,” said 
Morley, as I was leaving the cabin ; “ and you must go 
immediately and borrow a launch.* I have the admiral’s 
order for his ; but, as I suppose you won’t much like 
going to the flag ship at present, you may borrow one 
from the-frigate.” 

Having thanked the captain for this considerate arrange¬ 
ment, I proceeded on my errand ; although after all, I 
would sooner have encountered the admiral himself than 
the first lieutenant of the-frigate. 

The first lieutenant was proverbial in the service for his 
brutality and tyranny. His temper was violent in the 
extreme. When acting captain on board one of the ships 
in which he served, he was said to have flogged, upon an 
average, two men daily. No sooner did any poor fellow 
offend him, however slightly, than he ordered him to be 

* A launch is a large water-boat, and not carried by vessels of our 
rate. 








THE MIDDY. 


79 


instantly tied up and punished. When this happened, as 
it frequently did, during the night, a couple of lanterns 
were fastened to the gratings ; and the unfortunate culprit 
was flogged by candle-light. For convenience of use, as 
it was in such frequent requisition, the cat-o’-nine-tails 
was constantly kept in the binnacle ; an arrangement which 
procured the ferocious lieutenant the by-name ot “ Old - 
cat-V-the-binnacle or, for brevity, “ The Old Cat.” 

With the fear of this awful personage before my eyes, 

I proceeded on board the frigate. On reaching the quarter 
deck he was the first man I encountered. He was pacing 
hurriedly backwards and forwards; apparently in an 
awful fury about something or another. 

“ What, in the devil’s name, do you want here, sir?” 
he bawled out, as soon as he saw me ; at the same time 
standing still, and knitting his shaggy brows into an awful 
' frown. 

“ A launch, sir, to water the Hesperus ; by the admiral’s 
order,” I replied, with great respect but total indifference. 

“ The Hesperus, eh ! The happy Hesperus you call 
yourselves ; don’t you, eh ? Devilish clever fellows, are 
you not, eh? No saying what the Hesperus can’t do! 
Expect to hear of her going, stern foremost, round Cape 
Horn next! Happy Hesperus, forsooth ! happy devil ! 
Very well, sir ; take the launch ; there she is ; and if you 
so much as scratch the side of her, hang yourself; but 
never show your face here again !” 

This eloquent address I received without a reply; and, 
having made my bow, I was retiring to my boat, in order 
to take the launch in tow ; when “The Old Cat” jumped 
between me and the gangway ; and poking his spyglass, 
through which he affected to look at me, so close to my 
face as almost to touch it; he roared out in a thundering 
1 voice, as if he had been hailing a ship a gunshot off: 

“ Avast there, my lad ! Which of you d-d fellows 

was it that robbed the admiral’s stump-pots, eh ? In for 
a scrape now, by G—d ! See if your happy Hesperus 
can carry you through the squall that’s coming from that 
quarter! Deuced fine fellows to be sure ! Six weeks 
cruising to windward will be the least of it, by G—d ! 
X) _ n me, if I vvould’nt flog you all round, from the 










80 


THE MIDDY. 


captain downwards, by G—d !” And he walked off; 
chuckling at the idea of the Hesperus being put upon the 
admiral’s black list, and sent to cruise as a punishment. 

The whole of the forenoon was spent in watering the 
ship ; and about two o’clock, Captain Morley, who had 
been ashore, returned on board. The first thing he did 
was to send for me. 

“ Well, youngster,” he said ; “ I am going ashore, to 
dine with the admiral to-day; and you are to go along 
with me.” 

“ 1—I—sir !” I stammered out; quite taken aback by 
this very unwelcome intelligence. “ But-” 

“ Well ; but what, sir ?” 

“ The stump-pots, sir !” 

“ Oh ! never mind the stump-pots ! See that you’re 
ready at five.” 

There was no alternative; 1 was obliged to submit; 
and, all the time we were pulling ashore, I was meditat¬ 
ing what 1 should say in exculpation of my misdemean¬ 
our. 

The appearance of the company with whom I was to 
dine, did not tend to remove my embarrassment. They 
were all captains ; save myself and the flag-lieutenant. 
With the latter, however, 1 was, fortunately, very well 
acquainted ; and a finer, nobler fellow, I never knew ; 
either in the service or out of it.* 

“ Well, Widoe,” said he ; “ in a little bit of a funk, 
eh ! But don’t be frightened ; and if the stumps are men¬ 
tioned, be sure you pass it off as a joke.” 

Shortly after we had commenced dinner; and as soon 
as the dry ceremonial, which invariably fences the table 
of a commander-in-chief in either service, had been some¬ 
what got over; the admiral apologized to the party for 
having given them no stumps. 

“ The truth is, gentlemen,” said he, “ my stump-pots 
were plundered this morning. A pretty pass the service 
is coming to, Mr. Lascelles,” he continued, addressing 
himself to me; “a pretty pass we’re coming to, when 
midshipmen rob admirals’ stump-pots !” 

* Should these pages chance to meet the eye of the gentleman al¬ 
luded to; Widoe Wildfire embraces the opportunity to send him his 
very wannest regards. 





THE MIDDY. 


81 


He evidently waited for a reply; but I was so much 
embarrassed that I could not bring out a word. 

“ Did you ever hear of any midshipmen, Mr. Lascel- 
les,” he continued, pressing the point: “did you ever 
hear of any midshipmen, who did such things ?” 

There was no getting over so pointed a question ; so, 
screwing up my courage, I bolted out the following reply, 
with tolerable self-possession :— 

“ I have only heard of one instance, sir; and the mid¬ 
shipman who did it, thought that he was only doing his 
duty.” 

“ What! a midshipman’s duty to rob an admiral’s 
stump-pots!” 

“ It is a midshipman’s duty, sir, to follow in all things, 
and to the best of his ability, the example of his superior 

“ Well ; what of that?” 

“ Only this, sir ; that the midshipman to whom I allude, 
was following the example of an admiral, when he helped 
himself to the stumps in question ; and in so far, I con¬ 
ceive, he was only doing his duty.” 

The range of captains who were seated round the table, 
stared in perfect astonishment at my audacity. Captain 
Morley laughed outright. As for the worthy admiral; 
he was one of those commanders who, at the dinner- 
table, forget the quarter-deck. He joined in a hearty 
laugh; and only replied, “That if the case were as I 
had stated it; perhaps the best thing the admiral could 
do, was to say nothing about the matter.” 

The truth was, Captain Morley, who was always doing 
his officers one good turn or another, had gone ashore in 
the morning, expressly on purpose to explain the affair ; 
and he had arranged it all with the admiral before return¬ 
ing on board. I was invited to dinner, merely to be 
“ roasted” a little ; by way of punishment. 










82 


THE MIDDY. 


CHAPTER IX. 

WHALE-FISHING. 


Oh ! *twas a dreadful interval of time ! 


Cato. 


The business of provisioning the ship being at length 
accomplished ; we weighed and sailed for the Cape. 

It was now four weeks since I had come on board from 
my visit at my uncle’s; and this period, short as it was, 
had worked wonders on me. The moping melancholy 
with which my separation from Sophia at first affected me, 
had entirely disappeared ; and I engaged once more in 
the duties of my situation, with that lively interest which 
is so essential to performing them well. 

There is not, 1 believe, on earth, a being more truly 
miserable, than a man, who has either mistaken his pro¬ 
fession, or who from whatever cause, engages in its duties, 
as in a burdensome task. This misery I had fully experi¬ 
enced ; and the pleasure I felt of being once more restored 
to my proper self was proportionably great. 

We bore away before a steady breeze; and the sun, 
whose evening beams had gilded the rocks of St. Helena, 
rose in the morning upon a wide expanse of empty waters. 
A week passed rapidly away without any thing particular 






to mark it; every day the same monotonous routine of 
common duty. 

One night about four bells in the first watch,* I ex¬ 
changed the sultry closeness of the midshipman’s berth for 
the free air on deck. It was a lovely tropic evening.— 
The sun had been for some time gone down ; and the 
slender crescent of the young moon, whose rays were oc¬ 
casionally obscured by dense clouds, afforded but a feeble 


and 


intermitting light. 


* Ten o’clock p. m. 



THE MIDDY. 


S3 


It was Strangvvays’ watch; and Captain Morley and 
he were pacing the quarter-deck side by side. The cool¬ 
ness of the evening air was delightfully refreshing after the 
sultriness of the main-deck ; and I leant over the bulwark 
to enjoy it. 

“ Pray what is that in the water, sir ?” I said to the cap¬ 
tain, as he and Strangvvays passed near me; and, as I 
spoke, I directed their attention to several huge masses of 
some black-coloured substance, which rose and sunk from 
time to time under the bows of the ship 

“ Why it must be a shoal of black fish,”* said Strang- 
ways; and presently, in confirmation of what he said, a 
column of water was projected from one of them into the 
air. 

“ Had we been whalers,” said Captain Morley ; this 
would have been a lucky adventure. As it is, I fear we 
must look out for squalls.”f 

“ Whalers or not,” rejoined Strangvvays; “ I feel strong¬ 
ly inclined to have a run with one of them, if you have no 
objections, sir.” 

“ None,” said the captain ; “ but where will you find 
tackling for the purpose?” 

“ There’s a harpoon on board, sir; and, as for a line, 
we have the deep sea lead line,”| 

“ Very well,” said Morley; “ set about it. I will take 
charge of the deck for you during your absence.” 

The line was soon bent on to the harpoon ; and Strang¬ 
vvays, stepping into the main-chains, very dexterously sent 
it up to the socket in one of the fish. Off the monster 
dashed , and the line spun like lightning from the reel.— 
The whale boat was instantly lowered ; and Strangvvays, 
with four men, having descended, the reel, and a couple 
of boarding pikes, were handed down. 

There was very little wind at the time ; scarcely suffi¬ 
cient to afford the vessel steerage way; and we could dis¬ 
tinctly hear the spinning noise of the line, for some time 

# A small kind of whale, commonly called Jinners. 
t Those fish are generally supposed to be forerunnersof foul weather, 
t The deep-sea lead-line, which is about 200 fathoms in length, is 
wound round a large reel, which hangs constantly abaft ready for use. 





THE MIDDY*. 


84 

after the boat was lost to our view in the obscurity. In a 
few minutes all was again silent. 

“Did they take any lights with them, Mr. Parsons?” said 
Captain Morley ; addressing the boatswain. 

“ No sir, they took nothing with them but a couple of 
boarding pikes.” 

“ Ah !” said Morley ; “ that was a great oversight. The 
moon will very soon go down ; and in their situation, dark¬ 
ness must be attended with considerable danger. Let the 
second gig be lowered instantly ; and harkee ! which of 
the men are acquainted with whale fishing ?” 

“None of them, sir, as far as I know, were ever on board 
a whaler in their lives ” 

“Let the boat be lowered instantly ; and send Mr. Set¬ 
tler here. It was rash in me to allow them to go on this 
foolish enterprise!” 

The boat was soon lowered ; and the first lieutenant 
awaited the captain’s commands. 

“I must leave the ship for a short time in your charge, 
Mr. Settler,” he said. “ To prevent accidents, it will be 
necessary to give Mr. Strangways some assistance; and I 
believe I am the only man on board whose assistance can 
be of material service to him. Let the blue-lights be taken 
from the deck and put into the boat ; we shall also require 
the quartermaster’s lantern.” 

With these precautions our worthy commander descend¬ 
ed into the boat; and rowed off with four men to the assist¬ 
ance of his lieutenant. 

Not long after he was gone, the weather changed, and 
a strong breeze sprung up; but, as it blew steadily, and 
we were quite aware of the direction the boats had taken, 
we never for a moment thought of any danger. 

At last, as the captain had predicted, the moon disap¬ 
peared ; and the sea became involved in total darkness. 
Still, even this circumstance did not cause us any alarm ; 
for we had perfect confidence in the ability and expertness 
of our favourite officers. 

At length, however, when rather more than an hour and 
a half had elapsed without bringing any tidings of the 
boats, we began to be somewhat anxious for their safety. 
All eyes were eagerly strained on the look-out; and we 


THE MIDDY. 


85 

puzzled ourselves inventing plausible reasons for their delay. 
Mr. Settler, meanwhile, paced the quarter-deck, and never 
opened his lips ; though we expressed our anxiety loudly 
enough in his hearing. 

“Had you not better fire a signal-gun, sir?” said Mr. 
Sands at last; going up to him, and interrupting him in 
his walk. 

“ What right have you to direct me, sir ?” said the lieu¬ 
tenant; turning sharply round. “I presume you are 
aware, sir, that the ship is under my command.” 

“Perfectly, sir,” replied Sands with great mildness; 
“ but I thought that as the wind has sprung up ; and as 
the boats are so long of appearing—” 

“ Very well, sir; don’t I know that the wind has 
sprung up as well as you do? You will be kind enough, 
sir, to mind your own duty, and leave me to mine.” 

“ Good God !” cried Sands, as he joined a group of of¬ 
ficers standing aft; “I hope the fellow has no improper 
design. Why should he be so angry at me for proposing 
that a signal-gun should be fired ?” 

The officers to whom he addressed himself, looked at 
each other ; but said nothing. 

The breeze was now blowing hard, and the sea running 
pretty high. The ship,..which had previously been hove 
to, made sail; and hauled on a wind. We were astonish¬ 
ed at this movement; as its obvious tendency was to carry 
us away from the boats! 

“ I’ve seen a good deal of service,” said Wetherall, who 
was standing among the other officers, aloof from Settler; 
“ and I think I ought to know something about the manage¬ 
ment of a ship. But I’ll be hanged if I understand the mean¬ 
ing of our hauling the wind at present; the breeze being 
northerly, and the direction of the boats due south.” 

“What, in heaven’s name, shall we do, Wetherall?” 
said poor Sands ; who was reduced to a state of absolute 
despair. “ Could we not cast a gun loose; and fire it 
whether he will or not?” 

“ That would savour something like mutiny, Sands,” 
6aid Wetherall. “ We might as well tack the ship whether 
he will or not.” 

The rigging was by this time crowded with officers and 
vol. i.—8 








86 


THE MIDDY. 


men, all keeping an anxious lookout; and the boats were 
constantly reported in one direction or another ; so apt is 
imagination to deceive us, when anxiety quicken its pow¬ 
ers. 

But no boats appeared. Mr. Settler still kept pacing 
the quarter-deck; speaking to no one. In this manner 
another hour passed away. 

“ He’s preparing to fire a signal at last,” said Mr. 
Granger, the marine officer; who stood beside me on the 
main-top. “ I see the gunner carrying a match.” 

“Thank God!” I exclaimed; when, after a few mi¬ 
nutes, the report of the gun rung through the rigging. 

I did not at the moment reflect, though Mr. Settler pro¬ 
bably did so ; that, as the breeze was blowing very strong 
at the time, and as the boats must have been considerably 
astern ; they could not possibly hear the signal. 

Another half hour elapsed; and the sentinel struck 
three bells of the middle watch.* It was a “ dreadful in¬ 
terval of time during which a thousand things were 
said, and a thousand more were thought. But Mr. Settler 
all the while kept aloof from his comrades ; exchanging 
words with none ; pursuing his own counsel, and issuing 
his own commands. 

I prayed inwardly for daylight; stretching my anxious 
gaze in the direction the boats had taken. But in vain. 
Not a trace of them was to be discovered ; all around was 
thick, impenetrable darkness. The sky was obscured by 
dense clouds ; not so much as a star was visible. 

“ By heaven, here they are at last!” cried Granger. 
“ Look, Widoe ! right past the end of the main-yard !” 

I looked in the direction he pointed out; but could dis¬ 
cover nothing. 

“ Don’t you see them, man ?” cried Granger. “ Take 
my glass ; do you see them now ?” 

With the assistance of the glass, I descried a light in 
the distance. It was, indeed, a ray of hope ; but it beam¬ 
ed only to deceive. A little observation convinced us, that 
it was nothing more than a solitary planet in the horizon ; 
which the drifting clouds had exposed for an instant, and 
which they speedily again obscured. 


* Half-past one o’clock in the morning. 


THE MIDDY. 


87 

Again the sentinel struck the bell ; its sound was like 
a death-knell on the ear. Again it sounded ; and my 
heart responded with a throb to each of its five dismal 
chimes. Every moment seemed an hour, so intense was 
our anxiety ; and weary, at length, of straining my sight 
in vain, I once more descended to the deck. Wetherall, 
sands, and the doctor, were standing in close conclave 
abaft. 

“ You’re right, Sands,” said Wetherall ; “ it is high 
time that something should be done ; and I can’t help 
thinking that it will be little short of downright murder, if 
we do not go in search of the boats. As it is, we’re 
steering right away from them, by G—d !” 

“Before heaven!” cried Sands, who was dreadfully 
excited; “you may talk of discipline, and subordination, 
and mutiny, and all such balder-dash ; but what are these 
to me, when the lives of the two men I value most in the 
world are at stake!” 

“This is a matter, gentlemen,” said the doctor, “that 
will require serious consideration. What do you propose 
to do ?” 

“ Seize that dog Settler,” cried Sands ; striking his 
clenched fist against the bulwark : “ and clap him in 
irons! Though I should swing for it at the yard-arm 
before mid-day, I’ll be the first man to rivet the gyves!” 

“ And what then ?” 

“ Why then Wetherall will take command of the ship; 
andWe’ll go in search of the boats.” 

“ Would it not be better,” said the doctor, “ to go first 
and speak to Mr. Settler ; and- 

“Confound him, for a villain!” cried Sands, impa¬ 
tiently. 

“ Nay, my good sir, hear me. First endeavour to per¬ 
suade him to alter his course ; and, if he still persist in 
rejecting all advice ; then—why then—I quite agree with 
you, that steps ought to be taken.” 

“The doctor is right,” said Wetherall. “Come, 
Sands ; let’s go together to Settler, and see if we can 
persuade him to steer upon another tack.” - 

They accordingly proceeded forward. Settler was stil 
pacing the quarter-deck, with folded arms ; the vessel 
keeping the same course as before. 









S 8 


THE MIDDST. 


Wetherall and Sands faced him, just as he turned to 
make another round ; and they stood in such a position 
as prevented his passing. He immediately saw there was 
something in the wind ; so, sticking his arms akimbo, 
and throwing into his countenance an expression of infi¬ 
nite superciliousness, he addressed them with the assured 
air of one entitled to command. 

“ Pray, gentlemen ; may I ask the reason of your stop¬ 
ping me in this unceremonious manner ?” 

“ Mr. Sands and I are of opinion, sir,” replied Wether¬ 
all, “ that the ship is, at present, steering away from the 
boats; and we are come to give you our advice as to the 
course it would be best to take.” 

“ And pray when did I ask either Mr. Sands or you to 
give me any advice on the subject, sir?” 

“ You certainly did not ask our advice, sir ; but we 
thought it proper, under present circumstances, to volun¬ 
teer it.” 

“ And replied Settler; “ think it proper under pre¬ 
sent circumstances, to decline all conference with you 
on the subject, sir.” 

The bell again reminded us that the morning was ad¬ 
vancing. It struck six. # 

“ The boats on the weather-bow !” cried Parsons from 
the forecastle ; in a voice that made the vessel ring. 

“ God be praised !” cried Wetherall ; interrupting him¬ 
self as he was about to reply to Settler. 

We all rushed eagerly forward, to assure ourselves of 
the welcome intelligence ; and we discovered the blue 
lights in the boats at no great, distance, making directly 
for the ship. Settler immediately hove to ; and in a few 
minutes they were under our bows. 

Officers and men now crowded eagerly forward on 
the gangway; and, as the rope was thrown over to the 
boats, a tremendous cheer resounded to their welcome. 

Sands was standing next the gangway ; and as soon as 
Morley touched the deck, the kind-hearted purser eagerly 
grasped his hand. 

“ May God be praised, sir,” he cried, as the tears started 


* Three o’clock in the morning. 


THE MIDDY. 


89 


in his eyes ; “ may God be praised, that we have you once 
more safe on board !” 

“ Thank you, my honest fellow,” cried Morley, return¬ 
ing the cordial grasp of the purser’s hand ; “ and thank 
you too, my honest fellows all! By heavens ! it makes 
a man’s heart warm to meet with a welcome like this ! 
Danger becomes desirable when such a reward awaits 
i t ! Strangways and I, to be sure, were nearer losing the 
number of our mess, by the frolic, than we bargained for; 
but it’s all over now ; and your looks, my fine fellows, re¬ 
pay me a thousand times. We must have been sadly out 
of our reckoning, however; we took the ship to be full 
two miles to leeward of where she is!” 

Settler blushed slightly at this remark; but not a word 
was said.. The fact of his guilt, or of his innocence, was 
allowed to remain between his own conscience and the 
main-mast. 

“ And now, Sands, my boy,” continued the captain ; 
“ here’s oil enough to make your fortune. Serve out 
lamps, ray lad, and cabbage your candles ! Our trip has 
been of some service to you, at all events .!” 

It turned out that they had succeeded in killing the fish, 
after much difficulty. It had proved a very strong one ; 
and it gave them a long run before it was exhausted. 

By what almost seemed a merciful interposition of Pro¬ 
vidence, the fish had towed the boat in the same direc.tion 
that the ship had taken ; and the gleam of our blue lights, 
which they discovered accidentally, while looking for 
them in a totally different direction, served afterwards to 
guide them in their course. 

The fish was soon got on board, piecemeal; and the 
blubber was boiled on the main-deck. The oil, which 
turned out to be very fine, was sold to Sands, for a pound 
of tobacco and a straw hat to each man in the ship; and 
we went on our way rejoicing. 

About the end of the third week after leaving St, 
Helena; the flat top of Table Mountain began to appear 
above the horizon. 

8* 










90 


THE MIDDY. 


CHAPTER X. 

A WRECK. 


Suave, mari magno, turbantibus sequora ventis, 

E terra magutn alterius spectare laborein. 

Lucketius. 

Having despatches for the governor, and a variety of 
other business to transact in Cape Town; we stood into 
Table Bay, previously to proceeding to Simon’s Bay ; 
which is the regular naval station of the Cape. 

Table Bay is well known to be extremely liable to sud¬ 
den squalls, which frequently make tremendous havoc 
among the shipping ; tearing them from their moorings, 
and drifting them with awful violence upon the shore. It 
is, however, generally admitted, that much of the danger 
attendant on these storms might be avoided, by using the 
precaution of mooring the vessels firmly, with strong 
cables and heavy anchors. Ships so secured have been 
known to ride out the most tremendous gales ; while such 
as neglect this precaution almost invariably suffer. 

Accordingly, although the weather was extremely fine 
when we arrived, Captain Morley, in order to preclude 
the possibility of accident, directed the best and the small 
bowers to be dropped, with nearly a hundred fathom of 
cable to each. 

It was evening when we came to our moorings ; and 
next morning the captain proceeded on shore; taking 
Strangways and myself along with him. 

We landed opposite the custom-house; and proceeded 
immediately to the residence of the governor. Our way 
lay through the Heergraft; and, certainly, the appearance 
of this elegant street, was well calculated to make on us 
an agreeable first impression. In length, it extends to 
nearly half a mile ; and its breadth is in proportion. The 
houses are regularly built; generally two stories in height; 
with flat roofs, and flights of steps up to the doors. The 


THE MIDDY. 


91 

carriage-way, on either side, is lined by rows of handsome 
trees ; betwixt which and the houses are trottoirs. 

For the first half of its extent, only one side of the street 
is occupied by buildings; the other being a large open 
space, lined with trees, and used as a military parade. 
The shade of the overhanging branches affords a grateful 
shelter from the heat of the sun ; and their full and ver¬ 
dant foliage tends to promote an agreeable circulation of 
air when the weather is sultry. 

Altogether, I have not seen a place where I should be 
better contented to drop anchor for life, than the Heergraft 
of Cape Town. The day was remarkably fine ; and the 
bright rays of the sun imparted an agreeable air of cheer¬ 
fulness to the scene. 

The captain having delivered his despatches, and trans¬ 
acted some other slight business in the town ; we deter¬ 
mined to take a peep at the environs before returning on 
board. 

Accordingly, having repassed the Heergraft, we took 
the road to Green Point; which is an extensive tract of 
meadow-land, running between the sea and the foot of the 
Lion’s Rump. 

The scenery here was delightful; especially to men 
just arrived from a voyage. Before us were stretched the 
placid waters of the expanded bay; bounded on the one 
hand by a range of azure mountains ; and extending, on 
the other, far away into the horizon-bounded Atlantic. 
Numerous merchant ships—the jolly old Hesperus peer¬ 
ing proudly above them all—were riding at anchor; most 
of them with their white sails, unfurled to dry, flapping 
loosely in the breeze. Boats and lighters of all descrip¬ 
tions, were plying to and from the shore, or lying along¬ 
side the different ships ; on whose decks the mariners 
were busily engaged in loading or unloading their cargo. 
An occasional pinnace, with its gaudily painted gunwale 
and dazzling triangular sails, was seen threading its way 
through the maze; bound with a party from the town on 
some pleasure excursion. 

Altogether, it was a scene on which a sailor loves to 
gaze; life, bustle, and activity, on the placid surface of 
the element of his adoption. 







92 


THE MIDDY". 


Turning round from this pleasing prospect, the land- 
view was scarcely less interesting. In the background, 
the towering mass of Table Mountain, flanked on either 
side by the smaller but still stupendous heights of Devil’s 
Hill and the Lion’s Rump, stretched its stately head nearly 
four thousand feet into the air; steep, bare, and torrent- 
furrowed towards the top ; but covered towards the base 
with huge fragments of detached rock, and heaps of 
mountain debris. Among the latter, a stunted tree, or an 
occasional patch of brushwood, was here and there ob¬ 
servable. 

Betwixt these stately mountains, and the green plain on 
which we stood, lay the town ; with its gay white-walled 
houses glittering in the sunbeams, or thrown into agreea¬ 
ble obscurity by the dark shadows of the overhanging 
trees. Extensive gardens surrounded by luxuriant myrtle 
and laurel groves ; with here and there clumps of lemon 
trees, and lofty oaks twined round by the tendrils of the 
“ enlacing vine,” adorned the environs towards the land- 
side ; while the fort and batteries presented their sloping 
glaces towards the sea. 

Sometimes turning round to contemplate this prospect, 
and sometimes reverting to our own proper element, we 
passed on delighted with both ; extending our walk nearly 
to the extremity of Green Point. 

{j^Here, on a wooden bench erected for the use of the 
town’s-people, we sat down to rest. The waters of the 
bay, unruffled and motionless, seemed literally to be sleep¬ 
ing in the sunshine ; and they reflected vividly the shadows 
of the ships and boats that floated upon their surface. 

1 do not know how long we might have remained in 
this situation; but certainly not so much as half an hour ; 
when, turning round to contemplate once more the land- 
view, we were surprised at the change that had taken 
place in the appearance of Table Mountain. Its lofty 
outline was no longer relieved against the clear blue sky. 
A dense mass of black elouds mustered ominously behind 
it; and a thin white mist was curling in sweeping eddies 
round its summit. 

“ We must return with all speed to the ship,” said 
Captain Morley; rising from the bench. “I know that 


THE MIDDY. 


93 

signal of old ! , When the table-cloth is spread upon the 
mountain ; we may look for heavy squalls.” 

We rose, accordingly ; and walked rapidly in the direc¬ 
tion of the town. 

The fog round the summit of the mountain increased 
meanwhile in density; and became more and more agi¬ 
tated by intermitting gusts of wind. The sea-fowl, in¬ 
stinctively prophetic of an approaching storm, left the 
water in flocks ; the Cape pigeon wingingits way rapidly 
landward ; and the mighty albatros towering high into 
the welkin, to make its bed among the clouds of some 
more tranquil region.* 

The lurid clouds in the background now began, grad¬ 
ually but rapidly, to advance upon the confines of the 
clear blue sky ; and their dense mass had already reached 
the zenith. Still, the sun, which they had not yet ob¬ 
scured, shone brilliantly ; casting our shadows before us. 

We had not, however, proceeded many yards, when 
the sun too disappeared. All was black and ominous. 
We increased our pace to a run ; and we were hurrying 
rapidly forward ; when, in an instant, and without the 
slightest warning, we were met by a gale so furious as 
completely to retard our course ; and even to carry us a 
pace or two backwards. A torrent of the heaviest rain I 
ever witnessed, accompanied by vivid flashes of lightning 
and deafening peals of thunder, succeeded. We buttoned 
our coats ; bent our heads downwards ; and contended 
with the tempest as we best could. 

Our progress, however, was extremely slow; for the 
wind, if anything, continued to increase in violence. 
The blackness of the atmosphere, too, became more and 
more appalling ; and we could hear by the dashing of the 
waves, for it was dangerous to look up, that the sea was 
already agitated. 

After a tedious and fatiguing walk we at length reached 
the town. Not an individual was to be seen; the wind 
howled desolately among the houses, and the rain-water 

4 s % / 

* The albatros is said to sleep when on the wing ; 

—loin des bruits de la terre. 

Berce par son vol solitaire, 

II va s’endormir dans les cienx !” 








94 


THE MIDDY. 


ran in torrents through the streets. With great difficulty 
we rounded the corner of Somerset-road, where the gale 
swept past with a furious eddy ; and, getting into the 
comparatively more sheltered Waterkant street, we at a 
length reached the quay. 

Here, neither our own nor any other boat was to be 
seen. 4 he quay was totally deserted; and the waves 
lashed furiously over the parapet. Elkins, who had been 
waiting our arrival, presently joined us. 

‘‘JNo craft can live in the water, at present, sir,” he 
said; addressing Captain Morley. “ Every boat in the 
harbour has gone somewhere for shelter; and we have 
taken our gig into the dock of Rogge battery.” 

VVe now looked towards the sea; and we were imme¬ 
diately convinced that to return to the ship at that time was 
impossible. I he waves were running mountain-high; 
" e seethln £ foam lashed far up the beach and adjacent 

„ wouldgive all I am possessed of,” said Morley; 

to be, at this moment, on the deck of the Hesperus !” 
t is impossible, sir,” said Strangways; “no boat 
could live for an instant in such a sea.” And, as he spoke 
an enormous bdffiw, as if in confirmation of what he said’ 
lolled far up the beach beneath us, and deposited its snowy 
plumage at our feet. ^ 

Meanwhile, the gale continued to blow so furiously 
hat we were obliged to hold on by each other in order to 
keep our places. The rain-water streamed in torrents 

~ seemed - 

„ n ^ 1 ? ll . e w ® were sending in this uncomfortable situation 
uncertain what course to pursue; we were unexpectedly 
haded by a voice from behind ; and, turning round we 

house Ve beck g o en man at a " l ’ p P Cr ' vindow of the cuslom- 
house beckoning us to come in. We were not tardy in 

mg advantage ot this considerate invitation; and we 
oon, fo und ollrsel ™s 111 a comfortable room ; where seve 

^:irs:s,: ngaged with their 

From the window we commanded a complete view nf 
the bay; and the prospect it presented was truly appalling!^ 


r 









THE MIDDY. 


95 


The billows were of enormous magnitude ; and theyroll- 
' ed onwards with a violence which no power seemed capa¬ 
ble of resisting. Their wide and agitated tops were co¬ 
vered with fields of foam ; flakes of which the drifting 
gale caught up as it passed, and wafted impetuously away, 
far over the tops of the houses. Towards the shore, the 
yawning gulfs between the waves were so black and deep, 
that the eye almost shrunk from contemplating them ; 

, while, farther out, where the perspective shut those fear¬ 
ful chasms from the view, nothing was to be seen but one 
immense, unbroken, sea of foam. 

Beyond the bay, the waters of the ocean were black 
and desolate. No horizon was distinguishable. The 
gloomy colours of the clouds and of the distant water, 
were so completely assimilated, that they appeared to pass 
into each other; nor could the eye fix upon any point, 
where the one could be said to terminate, or the other to 
commence. 

In the lower strata of the air, detached masses of cloud, 
fringed with a stormy copper-coloured light, were rack¬ 
ing furiously before the tempest; while above, all was 
blackness and obscurity, dense, gloomy, and impenetrable. 

The whole scene, indeed, forcibly reminded me of the 
appellation which its first discoverers gave to the place ; 
ihe fitting epithet of cabo tormenteso. 

“ What are become of all the vessels that were moored 
in the bay this morning ?” said I; observing only the 
Hesperus and a single merchantman. 

“ They all cut their cables,” replied the gentleman who 
invited us in, and who now stood beside us at the window ; 
“ and stood out to sea as soon as the mist began to gather 
round the top of the mountain. This is, in general, their 
only chance of escape in such a squall ; for notwithstand¬ 
ing so many warnings, they are seldom provident enough 
to furnish themselves with moorings sufficiently strong to 
ride it out. I presume, sir,” he continued, addressing 
himself to Morley ; “ I presume, sir, you are the captain 
of the Hesperus ?” 

“I.am,” replied Captain Morley; “and I shall never 
rorgive myself for being absent from her at such a crisis.” 
“ You need not be in the least alarmed for her safety, 


f, 


)f! 









96 


TIIE MIDDY. 


sir,” said the gentleman. “I have witnessed many of 
these squalls from the spot where we now stand; and I 
can judge pretty accurately of the chance a ship has oi : 
weathering one of them. The Hesperus, I perceive, is 
moored by her two bowers, in addition to which she has i 
since dropped a sheet-anchor ; and her cables aie suffi¬ 
ciently long to allow her to humour the waves. I have 
watched her narrowly for some time, and I assure you 
she is not in the slightest danger.” 

Our own observations confirmed the gentleman’s re¬ 
mark. The Hesperus w r as riding out the tempest in most 
gallant style. From time to time she appeared on the 
summit of a wave, by which she was borne forward to a 
considerable distance, till the water gradually glided out 
from beneath her; and, without the slightest shock, she 
sunk back into the abyss behind. Here, her hull, and all | 
the under part of her rigging, were hid from the view, and 
nothing was to be seen but her top spars ; till, gradually, ! 
she again emerged, and stood out high upon the top of 
the succeeding billow. 

After observing her carefully for some time, the cap¬ 
tain himself seemed satisfied of her safety ; and we were, 
at length, so much relieved as to be able to turn our atten¬ 
tion to the merchantman. 

The state of this unfortunate vessel was very different. 
She was riding at single anchor; and it was evident that 
she was not provided with a sufficient length of cable. 
When she appeared on the summit of a wave, she was 
hurled impetuously forward ; and, when at the very top 
of her precipitate career, she was checked with a sudden 
jerk ; and fell back, amid clouds of spray, into the yawn¬ 
ing trough of the sea. 

“She can never ride it out,” said Captain Morley. 

“ Those repeated shocks must, eventually, snap her cable.” 

Nor was it long till the captain’s prediction was veri¬ 
fied. An enormous billow caught her up ; raised her on 
its heaving side ; and hurled her forward with irresistible 
violence. For an instant, her strained cable seemed to 
check her in her course ; but it was only for an instant. 
Again she was precipitated forward ; her prow look a 
downward direction; bowsprit and bows were immersed 



THE MIDDY. 97 

in the water; the billow passed onwards and hid her from 
our view. 

It was evident that her cable had snapped ; and we 
considered her destiny as sealed. Again, however, she 
appeared on the top of the succeeding wave; and we could 
see with the assistance of a glass, that she had ported her 
helm, and succeeded in turning her head from the wind. 

The manoeuvre was dexterously managed She glided 
down the farther side of the wave, and surmounted the 
next. 

Some hope seemed still to be left; as she was certainly 
making though slowly from the shore. We watched her 
with intense anxiety. The gale drifted furiously against 
her; and her spars were snapping like reeds, before it; 
but still she bore gallantly on ; till at last, an enormous 
sea caught her on the weather beam, and threw her ob¬ 
liquely into the trough of the water. 

When she next appeared her rudder was gone. No 
power on earth could now save her. She was dashed, 
unresistingly, forward, and precipitated, with a furious 
shock, upon the beach; where the sea broke over her, 
mountain-high. 

“ For God’s sake,” cried Captain Morley ; “ let us de¬ 
scend, and render what assistance we can to the unfortu¬ 
nate crew 1” 

“ Any assistance of ours, sir,” said the stranger gentle¬ 
man ; “ will, I fear, be unavailing. The government 
guard will be already on the beach, to protect the property 
that may be washed ashore ; and we would only be expos¬ 
ing ourselves to the gale for no purpose.” 

“ D-n the gale !” cried Morley, impatiently ; and he 

rushed out of the room, followed by Strangways and my¬ 
self. 

When we reached the street, we found that the wind 
and rain had somewhat moderated, and that the clouds 
were beginning to rack away; though the sea still raged 
with all its former violence. We hastened forward to 
the spot where w6 had observed the ship to strike ; and 
we soon arrived at the scene of devastation. 

Here, we found a large concourse of people already 
assembled : among whom were a non-commissioned rnili- 
VOL. I. — 9 




98 


THE MIDDY. 


tary officer and a few soldiers. The vessel was lying 
within half a cable’s length of the beach, and evidently 
in very shoal water ; for the waves that washed furiously 
over her in their advance left her, in their reflux, so bare 
that we could even see her keel. 

jk Upon inquiry, we learned from the bystanders, that she 
was an English merchantman, home-ward-bound with 
goods and passengers. The crew, and the unlucky pas¬ 
sengers, among whom were several females, stood upon 
the deck, holding on by the remainder of the spars and rig¬ 
ging ; for the bulwarks were almost entirely washed away. 

It was evident that she could not resist the fury of the 
tempest for many minutes. Her timbers creaked and 
crashed with a fearful sound, as she was struck by each 
successive wave ; and at length a huge sea struck her on 
the quarter; broke her back; and hove the stern-part 
round alongside the prow. 

The cries of the unfortunate passengers for assistance 
were at this moment truly appalling. But what assistance 
could we give? We had no boat; and though we had 
had one, it could have been of little service in such a sea. 
As for swimming there was riot among us a heart stout 
enough to attempt it. 

The crew themselves seemed incapable of any exertion ; 
they stood paralysed and motionless on the deck ; look¬ 
ing eagerly towards the land. 

At length one of the men appeared with a rope in his 
hand ; the end of which he fastened round the root of the 
foremast. He then stripped to the shirt; and taking 
a lead-line, to which he had attached the other end of the 
rope, between his teeth; he threw himself into the water. 

For some time he was totally lost to our view ; and we 
supposed he had fallen a sacrifice to his daring attempt. 

Presently, however, he appeared on the top of a wave ; 
by which he was borne rapidly forward, and thrown with 
awful violence on the beach. The spectators made a 
simultaneous rush to his assistance; but before they could 
reach him, the receding water caught him up, and washed 
him out a considerable distance from the shore. 

We now gave him up for lost; but before many minutes 
had elapsed, he again appeared, swimming strongly, and 


THE MIDDY. 


99 


struggling manfully with the raging surge; which he en¬ 
deavoured to oppose, by striking out in an opposite direc¬ 
tion to that in which it was running. lie at length once 
more neared the beach ; and, giving himself up to an ad¬ 
vancing wave, he was again borne rapidly forward ; till 
suddenly diving beneath the water, he disappeared , and 
the billow rolled on without him, dashing its foaming crest 
high up upon the shore. 

Back again it rushed, hurling along with it immense 
masses of stone which it tore up from the beach; and, 
when it had receded a considerable way, we again descried 
the sailor, struggling against it, and swimming shore- 
wards. 

By dint of sheer strength, he so far overcame the force 
of its suction, as to attain the beach before it again ad¬ 
vanced ; when, starting nimbly to his feet he ran hastily 
up to the spot where the spectators were collected. 

I shall never forget his appearance when he first pre¬ 
sented himself before us. On leaving the ship, he had 
taken off all his clothes save his shirt; and this was 
slipped down from his shoulders, and fastened round his 
waist by the sleeves, which were firmly knotted in front. 
In his countenance, which was handsome, though dark 
and weather-beaten, there was a strange peculiarity of ex¬ 
pression, which seemed to indicate a singular mixture of 
courage and pride, generosity and sullenness. His long 
black hair hung in dripping ringlets down his temples ; 
and intermixed, in clotted tangles, with his huge, bushy 
whiskers. His figure was spare, but extremely athletic; 
and the elegant moulding of his limbs, elastic with the 
vigorous energy of youth, seemed to indicate an origin 
superior to his present humble station. Round his neck 
he wore a black ribbon, to which was attached a large 
metal locket. His chest and shoulders were streaming 
with blood ; and in his hand he bore the lead-line, from 
which he had never parted in all his danger. 

He gave us no salutation as he approached, and waited 
for none ; but immediately commenced to haul the rope, 
to which the line was attached, ashore. When he had 
secured this, he instantly thrust it into the hands of the 
nearest bystanders. 



100 


THE MIDDY. 


“ Hold tight on there, messmates,” he cried, in a hoarse 
voice ; and, without waiting for a reply, he rushed down 
to the beach, and again plunged into the water. 

With the assistance of the rope, which now extended 
from the ship to the shore, it was not long till he stood 
once more on the deck ; where he was received with a 
loud cheer by his messmates. Encouraged by his exam¬ 
ple, and by the prospect of safety which the rope afforded, 
the rest of the crew now began to bestir themselves. 
Quantities of luggage and stores of different kinds were 
tossed overboard ; and, being gathered up by the bystand¬ 
ers as soon as they had drifted ashore, they were placed 
together in a heap ; round which the soldiers formed a 
ring. 

The sea, however, still continued to rage as furiously 
as ever; and the eventual rescue of the passengers and 
crew seemed matter of great uncertainty. 

At length, we observed the same intrepid seaman ad¬ 
vance towards the side of the vessel; and, grasping a fe¬ 
male in one arm, while with the other he held on by the 
rope, he plunged overboard. 

For a short space they both disappeared ; but when the 
water receded, it left them on the firm land, the sailor 
still holding fast by the rope. 

By an almost superhuman exertion of strength and 
agility, he now succeeded in bearing his charge safe, 
though exhausted, to the beach, before the wave again ad¬ 
vanced. As formerly, he did not exchange a word with 
the bystanders; but, laying his burden gently on the 
grass, he returned again to the ship. 

The rest of the crew now emulated the example of 
their intrepid comrade ; and the female part of the passen¬ 
gers were all rescued, with the exception of two, who 
were washed out to sea and drowned. The crew and 
male passengers succeeded in saving themselves, with the 
loss of only one life. 

The sailor who first brought the rope ashore, had made 
no fewer than seven different trips to the vessel; and the 
excitement seemed each time to inspire him with fresh 
strength and courage. But now, when the work was done, 
he stood before us shivering with cold ; exhausted, bruised, 



101 


THE MIDDY. 

and bleeding. Still he exchanged words with no one ; 
nor did he join in the congratulations which the rest were 
giving and receiving, among each other and from the by¬ 
standers. Without taking notice of any one, he passed 
on to the place where the boxes that had been saved from 
the wreck were piled up. 

“You can’t come in here, my lad,” said the officer 
who was guarding them, observing that the man wished 
to pass. “No one can be allowed to touch these packa¬ 
ges till the magistrate has examined them.” 

“ I see my own chest there,” growled the sailor. “ I 
want a coat!” f 

“Well; 1 can’t allow you to touch anything here,” 
said the officer ; “ so you had better take yourself off.” 

“ I am wet!” 

“I can’t help it, my orders are peremptory.” 

“ I am shivering with cold !” 

“ There’s no use speaking to me; I tell you once for 
all, you shan’t touch one of these packages, at present.” 

The sailor made no reply ; but a dark scowl passed 
over his face, and he turned away. 

Captain Morley interceded with the officer, but in vain ; 
he was quite inexorable. I turned away in disgust from 
the unfeeling monster; whose conduct no observance of 
duty, however strict, could palliate; and the first object 
that met my sight was Strangways, busily engaged in 
stripping to the buff. 

I was well aware of the temperament of the worthy 
lieutenant; whose choler nothing so easily roused as 
cruelty or oppression; and I never doubted that he was 
preparing to beat humanity into the unfeeling officer, in 
the genuine old English fashion. In this, however, I was 
mistaken. 

“ Here, my good fellow,” he said, addressing the 
sailor: “here are a coat and waistcoat for you. You 
will find money enough in the pocket to procure you a 
proper rig-out when you reach the town.” 

The man gave him a look which seemed to say, “ Are 
you serious ?” as, with a simple “ thank you, heartily, 
sir,” he took the proffered garments ; and leisurely put 
them on. 





102 


THE MIDDY. 


“ Give me your hand, Strangways,” said Captain Mor- 
ley; who had stood a passive observer of the scene.— 

“ You’ve taught me a lesson to-day, which I shall not 
soon forget!” 

The worthy commander shook the hand of his lieuten¬ 
ant, with a cordiality which evinced how much his con¬ 
duct had pleased him. I thought I observed something j 
like a rising tear glisten in his eye. 

The wind now lulled almost as suddenly as it had sprung 
up; the clouds racked rapidly away, and the sun once 
more shone out with all its former splendour. Towards ! 
evening, the agitation of the water subsided ; and Captain 
Morley desired Elkins to bring our gig to the quay stairs. 

“ Elkins !” said the captain ; observing that there were 
only three men at the oars ; “ what is become of Stubbs?” 

“ He left us this morning, sir,” replied Elkins, “ soon 
after our arrival; and went into the town to purchase to¬ 
bacco. We have not since seen him, sir.” 

“ Did you not go in quest of him, when you found he 
did not return ?” 

“ We did, sir; but we have not been able to find any 
trace of him.” 

“ Well; we can’t wait for him now,” said the captain. 

“ Mr. Lascelles, will you take the fourth oar?” 

Without farther interruption we returned to the ship ; 
and we were gratified, on our arrival, by learning, that 
she had not sustained the slightest damage during the 
gale. 






THE MIDDY. 


103 


CHAPTER XI. 

A DESERTER. 

To the yard-arm! away with him! away! 

Red Rover. 

On the forenoon of the day following that on which the 
i preceding incidents occurred, I was summoned to attend 
the captain in his cabin. 

“ Mr. Lascelles,” he said ; “ I have sent for you to 
say, that Thomas Stubbs, the former captain of the mizen- 
top, who disappeared from among our boat’s crew yester¬ 
day, is not yet returned on board; and from what I can 
learn from his messmates, I have every reason to believe 
that he has deserted. You shall, therefore, take a sergeant 
of marines, and proceed in search of him ; and, as he is 
probably still lurking somewhere about the town I trust 
you will have no difficulty in tracing him out.” 

Nothing could be in more entire accordance with my 
taste, than such an expedition as this. From my youth 
up, “ the chase,” in all its branches, has been my delight. 
Short time sufficed to make the necessary preparations ; 
and, before half an hour had elapsed, the sergeant and I 
were hunting in couples through the streets of Cape 
Town, in pursuit of the ill-fated deserter. 

All our inquiries, however, were vain. No one knew 
anything of such a man ; no one had seen anything of 
him ; and, what was still moie extraordinary, no one had 
even heard anything of him. We traversed every street 
in the town ; drank beer in every tavern, from the highest 
to the lowest; entered every place of public resort; but 
still no tidings of Tom Stubbs. We were fairly at fault. 

At last, finding all other means fruitless, I thought it 
would be necessary to have recourse to the governor; 
and, having informed my companion of my intention, we 
proceeded together towards his residence. 







104 


THE MIDDY. 


We were, at this time, in the suburb of the town ; and, 
wishing to take the nearest road, we turned up a narrow j 
lane, fenced on each side by high walls ; the heavily la¬ 
den branches of fruit trees hanging over one of which in¬ 
dicated a garden ; while some tall beams and planks of 
timber, peering over the top of the other, gave symptoms; 
of a carpenter’s wood-yard. 

The day was bright and intensely hot; and everything 
around was still and motionless. Save the humming of 
the insects among the trees, and the monotonous sound of 
the mallets of the workmen, who were engaged at their 
craft on the other side of the wall; not a sound disturbed 
the sleepy stillness. We plodded on our way as leisurely 
as the nature of our duty warranted ; nor had we pro¬ 
ceeded many paces, when our attention was arrested by 
a voice in the wood-yard, calling out in a loud jocular 
tone : 

“ Come along, Blackie ; won’t sing us a song, man, to 
help away this hot afternoon ?” 

“ No blackie me, massa Jem ! me call Tom ! Him no 
forget dat.” 

“Well, Tom, sing us a song, my lad; and you shall 
drink a pot of beer with me at the Stag, this evening.” 

“Hey, ya! beer bery good ting, massa Jem!—bery ! 
good ting !—bery !” 

“ Well, strike us up a stave, my lad ; and see that your 
voice run as mellowly as the beer from old Han’s cask !” 

Thus urged, the party addressed lifted up his voice; 
which, if it did flow as mellowly as old Han’s beer, cer¬ 
tainly said very little for the entertainment to be met with 
at the Stag. 

The words of the first part of the song have escaped 
my memory; but it was chanted to a very lugubrious air, 
and contained a “ melting account” of the miseries endured 
by poor slaves. The latter part was sung in a more 
lively strain ; and it described the joys that were expected 
to result from the longed-for measure of Emancipation. 
The singer gave out the words with a most emphatic 
enunciation; and every hammer in the yard “ beat the 1 
measure as he sung.” 

As far as my memory serves me, the verses, which are 






THE MIDDY. 


105 


unique in their way, ran nearly as follows ; the lively air to 
which they were chanted, forming a strong contrast to the 
piteous whining tone, in which the lines immediately pre¬ 
ceding were sung. 

But emancipation come, ha ha ! 

Ben massa look ber glum, ha ha ! 

Me drink him grog, me eat him prog, 

And steal him cask of rum, 

Ha ha! 

And steal him cask of rum ! 

Den me kill massa goat, ha ha ! 

Den me wear massa coat, ha ha ! 

Me kiss him wife, me steal him knife, 

And cut him ugly throat, 

Ha ha! 

And cut him ugly throat! 

Den me shall lib on rum, ha ha ! 

And sleep all day in de sun, ha ha! 

No work no flog, but beer and grog, 

As soon as the day’s begun, 

Ha ha! 

As soon as the day’s begun! 

During the captation of this animated description of the 
refined pleasures that were anticipated from the philan¬ 
thropic measure of Emancipation ; I had managed, with 
the assistance of the sergeant, to clamber up the wall, 
high enough to obtain a view of the group within, without 
being myself subject to observation. 

In the scene that presented itself there was, to a com¬ 
mon observer, nothing very remarkable. About half-a- 
dozen workmen were engaged in vamping up old casks, 
or in making new ones ; their mallets and chisels keeping 
time to blackie’s music. Kegs and barrels of all sorts 
and dimensions were piled up round the court-yard; or 
lying in seeming confusion in the open area where the 
workmen were employed. Wood in large beams, or cut 
into staves of various sizes ready for use, was also lying 
about in abundance ; but without being arranged with any 
particular regard to the order of its disposition. Every 
thing seemed to announce a cooperage of considerable 
extent and importance ; and, though the several workmen 




THE MIDDlf. 


106 




seemed extremely intent on their employment, they did 
not fail to join cheerily in the chorus of the song ; and 
the enlivening effect of the jolly Ha ha! was wonderfully I 
increased, by the powerfully accented music produced by 
their accompaniment of mallets. 

As for the principal performer himself, his action was 
so energetically suited to the word, that he seemed to 
have taken the hammer more for the purpose of breaking 
than of mending, his master’s hogsheads. 

He was ensconsed in the interior of an enormous punch¬ 
eon ; which so effectually concealed his person, that I 
could discover no part of it save his head. This head 
was invested in a broad-brimmed, brightly glazed, black 
tarpaulin hat; round the under edge of which—fancy my 
astonishment!—were written in white paint, with a vari¬ 
ety of dashes and other ornaments appropriate to elegant 
caligraphy; the very unlooked for words, “ T. Stubbs , 
H. M. S. HesperusJ” 

It was not without considerable difficulty that I was 
able to decipher this scroll, elegant though it was ; and, 
had it not been that the occupation of the wearer caused him 
to turn round and round in the cask, so as to present from 
time to time the whole circuit of his head-piece, I should 
probably never have made the discovery. Having satisfied 
myself, however, that I had “ read arightat least as far 
as concerned the word “ Stubbs,” which par excellence 
was written in a larger character than the rest; I descended 
from my exalted position, and communicated the result of 
my discovery to my companion. 

It was speedily resolved that we should not allow so 
important a clue to the detection of our deserter to escape 
without prosecuting it to the utmost. It was possible 
that the soi-disant blackie might be Stubbs himself in 
disguise; at all events, the identity of the hat was certain. 

We, accordingly, proceeded forwards; and, walking into 
the cooperage, we inquired at a person who appeared to 
be the overseer, if there was a black man named Tom em¬ 
ployed in the work. He very civilly told us there was : 
and said that, as it was near the resting hour, if we would, 
wait a minute he would fetch him to us. 

He, accordingly, left us, and very soon returned, ac- 






THE MIDDY. 


107 

companied by Tom ; whose hat and face seemed to hold 
an honoured rivalry for the palm of Japanese brilliancy.— 
The hope, however, that he might be Stubbs in disguise, I 
was unwillingly obliged to relinquish. Stubbs was a mid¬ 
dle-sized man ; Tom an extremely athletic powerful fellow 
of at least six feet. Besides, there was no mistaking the 
polished shining complexion, flat nose, and thick blubbery 
lips that bespoke the uncounterfeited negro. The rest of 
the workmen followed in the group behind ; apparently 
curious to ascertain what the Englishmen could have to 
say to their African comrade. 

Having first formally presented Tom to our notice, the 
overseer was called away to another part of the work ; 
and we were left to pursue our investigations as we best 
could. 

I have often cordially thanked my kind stars that I was 
not bred a lawyer ; and yet I have frequently been placed 
in situations where a little of the proverbial cunning of 
that amiable fraternity might have been of considerable 
avail ; and such was the present. 

“ Pray, Tom,” said I floundering at once in medias res , 
without the precaution of employing previously a few ap¬ 
propriate “ leaders.” “ Pray, Tom, are you acquainted 
with one Thomas Stubbs, of his Majesty’s ship Hesperus?” 

Tom, who stood, while I was propounding this sapient 
question, with his huge glaring eyes fixed in the middle of 
their sockets, and the door through which eloquence flows 
expanded wide enough to have allowed a long harangue 
to issue forth ; compressed his lips as 1 finished; and, 
turning round to his companions, as if he wished their at¬ 
testation of the truth of what he was going to say; he 
shrugged his shoulders, looked wise, and replied with a 
grin : 

“ No massa !—my no sabe he !” 

“ Nay, Tom,” I continued, “ I don’t mean the poor fel- 
* low any harm, nor you either ; but I wish you would tell 
me where Stubbs is at present.” 

“ Tubbs! Tubbs !” repeated Tom, looking down at his 
black splay feet, as if he thought they might help him at a 
pinch; “Tubbs! Tubbs! massa, me tell him true; my 
no sabe dat pigeon !” 






108 


THE MIDDY* 




“ But you’ve seen him somewhere, haven’t you, 1 om V 
1 continued, pressing the point. I 

“ No ! massa,” replied the incorrigible negro, with the 
most imperturbable gravity of countenance ; “no ! massa ; 
my no see him nibber !” j 

Finding that nothing was to be made of this mode of 
interrogation, I shifted my tack, and determined to pro¬ 
ceed more cautiously. 

“ Very well,” I said ; “ no matter Tom, I only thought 
somehow that you had known him. By the way, that’s a 
very handsome hat you’ve got, Tom !” and 1 looked keen¬ 
ly at him to observe if the remark produced any effect.— 
But Tom maintained unaltered the calm serenity of his 
countenance ; and if he did blush, I confess that the soft 
tint of conscience escaped my observation. 

“ Hey ya !” he replied, taking off his hat, and twirling 
it between his fingers with a most pleased and complacent 
smile. “ Hey ya ! him hat bery good hat!” 

“ Will you let me see it, Tom ?” 

“ Hey ya, massa !” and he put the hat into my hand, 
apparently highly pleased with the admiration it excited. 

“ By heaven !” 1 exclaimed, after a short examination ; 
and purposely raising my voice to a tone of extreme dis¬ 
pleasure ; “ how- is this, sir! This is Stubbs’ hat! Here is 
his name written on it!'’ 

Tom seemed highly nettled at this insinuation; the 
smile upon his countenance gave place to a look of wrath; 
and his voice and gestures became somewhat fierce ; as, 
extending his hand to recover his property he exclaimed : 

“ Tubbs’ hat ! my nosabe dat dam Tubbs ! me buy him 
hat for one pot of beer ! Gib him ! gib him! goddam !” 
And at every word he advanced a step nearer, attempting 
to clutch the disputed hat from my hand. 

“ I say, Tom !” cried one of his comrades ; a tall broad 
shouldered Englishman in a blue apron. “Where did you 
get the beer you bought the hat with, my lad V* 

“Wer me get him ?” replied Tom, a little posed by the 
question. “What de dibble matter wer me get him massa 
Jem !” 

“ Ay, ay ! you stole it, I’ll warrant, from the master’s 
„ store.” 




THE MIDDY. 


109 

f,< But me no steal him hat, goddam ! me buy him hat! 
Gib him ! gib him, goddam !” And he laid hold of my 
arm to effect a forcible recovery of his property. 

“ That’s it, Tom,” cried Jem ; stirring him on to the 
attack. “Go it, my lad ; the fellow wants to steal your 

hat, by G-d, as you stole the master’s beer. At him 

my hearty !” 

Tom, by this time highly incensed, needed no such in¬ 
centive to urge him to open hostilities. He laid hold of 
| me with both his hands ; and it was only by the exertion 
of my utmost strength that I succeeded in throwing him 
off; when, drawing my dirk, I swore I would stab him if 
he attempted to lay a finger on me. 

At the sight of the glittering steel, Tom cautiously re¬ 
treated a few paces backwards ; but it was only to snatch 
up a huge block of wood, with which he again returned 
to the attack ; brandishing it over his head ; his black 
eyes sparkling with fury. 

I was completely at his mercy; one blow would have 
shivered my skull like a nutshell; and it was just on the 
point of descending, when the arm of the negro was sud¬ 
denly arrested by the voice of the overseer. 

“What’s this you’re after, you black devil?” lie ex¬ 
claimed in a thundering voice ; and Tom stood, petrified 
as it were by the sound, in the posture he had assumed 
to give good effect to his intended blow; one leg a little 
advanced, his head somewhat depressed, and both hands 
grasping firmly the uplifted weapon ; no bad representa¬ 
tion of an African Hercules, in the attitude of inflicting 
the lethal blow on some couching Nemean lion. 

“ What’s all this about, you black beast ?” said the 
overseer; as he approached and struck the uplifted club 
from the hands of the astonished Tom. “I’ll have you 
flogged every day for a fortnight, you savage, to beat a 
little discretion into you. Off with you to your booth ; 
or I’ll send you there with a chain round your ankles!” 

I now thought it right to intercede in Tom’s behalf, 
and deprecate the resentment of the overseer ; to' whom I 
explained the whole particulars of the quarrel. 

“You see, sir,” I continued, presenting the hat; “here 
is the name of the man, Stubbs ; of whom Y am at pres- 

vol. i.—10 





THE MIDDY. 


110 

ent in pursuit, as a deserter from his Majesty’s ship Hes¬ 
perus.” 

The overseer examined the hat; and, turning angrily 
round to Tom, he asked him where he got it. 

“Me buy him,” replied Tom; quite subdued by the 
presence of his superior. 

“ Where ?” 

“ From Massa Moses Mosheim.” 

It appeared from the farther interrogatories of the over¬ 
seer ; that poor Tom, chancing that morning to pass the 
shop of Moses Mosheim, where the hat in question was 
hung out at the door to lure purchasers, had been mightily 
taken with its appearance; especially with the writing 
with which it was adorned, and which the cunning Jew 
had represented as a new-fashioned sort of ornament; and 
that, after half an hour’s bargaining, he had become the 
purchaser on the terms above alluded to. 

“Well, sir,” said the overseer; “you have allowed 
yourself to be cheated ; and you must suffer this gentle¬ 
man to take away the hat, as it belongs to one of his 
men.” 

Poor Tom sobbed with very vexation, when he saw 
his newly-acquired adornment thus unceremoniously dis¬ 
posed of; but he did not offer a syllable of objection. I 
positively felt sorry for him. 

“ I have no wish, sir,” 1 said, “ that this poor fellow 
should be a loser by the business; and, if you will allow 
him to conduct me to the shop of this Moses, in order 
that I may make a few inquiries there, I have not the 
slightest objection to his retaining the hat.” 

Tom’s face brightened up at this proposal ; and, the 
overseer having given his consent, 1 restored the con¬ 
tested castor to its owner, and we proceeded in company 
towards the residence of the Jew. 

After a short walk, we arrived in a low, narrow street; 
and Tom, pointing to a shop completely hung round with 
coats, hats, trousers, and other parts of male wearing ap¬ 
parel ; informed me that this was the place of our desti¬ 
nation. 

The interior of this wretched-looking booth corres¬ 
ponded exactly with its external fagade. It was a perfect 


THE MIDDY. 


Ill 


torest of pendent habiliments ; which were hung on the 
walls by means of nails and cloak-pins, and across the 
confined area by means of strings ; which were stretched 
in all directions, transverse and diagonal. So great was 
the obscurity caused by this incongruous assemblage of 
human vestures, that it was some time before we discov¬ 
ered the object of our visit; who was standing like a 
shrivelled mummy behind his little counter. 

He was a puny, diminutive-looking fellow, with a 
countenance truly Jewish ; sallow chocolate complexion, 
and genuine patriarchal longitude of beard. He was 
habited in a loose grey gown, which was fastened round 
the waist by a broad leathern belt; and his head was 
covered by a low, round-crowned hat, whose brim was of 
the right Bohemian breadth. Indeed, the longitude of 
the beard, and the latitude of the brim, appeared to bear 
a sort of geographical reference to each other. 

We had scarcely well entered the shop, when Tom 
lugged off his ill-fated hat; and, floundering it down upon 
the counter, roared out in a furious voice to the astonished 
vender: 

“Vat for you sell me dam Tubbs hat, eh ? vat for, eh ? 
dam Tubbs hat, goddam !” 

The merchant, who was probably accustomed to such 
sallies from his customers, took not the slightest notice of 
the hat; but looked coolly and steadily in the face of the 
enraged negro. 

“You are von leetle beet angre, ma frien’;” was his 
only reply. 

“ Me leatle ! goddam !” cried the incensed Tom; “ me 
leatle ! Me great dam deal angry, goddam ! Him gib me 
back him beer, goddam !” 

“ Dat I cannot do, ma frien’,” replied Moses; “ becaush 
it ish all dronk up.” 

“ Goddam ! cried Tom; brandishing his fist in Moses’ 
face. “ Vat him say ! drinky he ! drinky massa beer, 
goddam! But me make him beer come out of him inside 
again, goddam !” And he was about to vault over the coun¬ 
ter, in order to apply an external stomach-pump to the un¬ 
lucky Moses, when I laid hold of him and kept him back. 

“Avast there, Tom,” saidl; “no more of your blar- 




112 


THE MIDDY. 


ney, my lad. See, there’s a shilling for you; take up 
your hat, and be off!” 

Tom attempted to twist his face into an expression of 
something like thankfulness ; as, pocketing the money, 
he clapped on his hat, and made a most rapid retreat; ap¬ 
parently alarmed lest I should repent of my bounty before 
lie was beyond hearing. 

At the expense of half-a-crown and a little civility, we 
now succeeded in learning from the Jew that he had re¬ 
ceived the hat on the previous evening from an English 
sailor; to whom he had given another in exchange. He 
farther showed us other parts of the same sailor’s dress ; 
consisting of jacket, trousers, and check shirt; and told 
us that he had furnished him instead with the worn-out 
dress of a Dutch skipper. He did not know, however, 
he said, where the man was at present to be found; but 
he thought we were likely to hear something of him by 
going to the house of one Karl Krause, who kept a beer- 
shop in a certain street in the suburbs, to which he direct¬ 
ed us. 

“ But you mosh take care, young shentlemans,” added 
Moses ; “ for, if Karl tink you come after any of his peo¬ 
ples, he vill shoot you vid his pistol, or stab you vid his 
knife—O yais !” 

“ The devil lie will!” said I. “ Pray who is this Karl?” 

“ Hist!” said Moses ; putting his linger on his lip, 
and speaking in a whisper ; “ hist! he may hear us !” 

“ Hear us ! Is he in the house then ?” 

“ O yais ! O no ! he is here, dere, everywhere. No 
one know where Karl may not be found! Hist, young 
shentleman ; I mosh not speak more of hinv—0 no!” 

It was in vain that we attempted to elicit any farther in¬ 
formation on the subject of this mysterious personage ; 
but, thinking it prudent to act upon the cautious hinf of 
the old Jew, we availed ourselves of the variety of cos¬ 
tumes his shop afforded; and we soon sallied forth in 
quest of Karl, arrayed as an English merchant of the lower- 
class, and his son. The Jew informed us that Karl was 
a German; and, as my companion had served in his youth 
in the Memel and Riga trade, where he had picked up a 
smattering of the German language; we hoped that this 



THE MIDDY. 


113 


accidental circumstance might be of use to us in our re¬ 
searches. 

It was with some difficulty that we found our way to 
the place to which Moses directed us ; but, after a variety 
of wanderings, we at length entered a narrow lane ; the 
houses in which were of the very meanest description. 
This lane was what is usually termed a blind alley ; being 
shut up, at the farther end, by a high wall; and it was one 
of the very filthiest of those proverbially filthy places. It 
seemed, indeed, to be the general receptacle of all the 
abominations of Cape Town. 

Over the door of a wretched-looking house, about half¬ 
way up this delectable spot, dangled a wooden sign-board ; 
which appeared to indicate a place of public entertain¬ 
ment. It exhibited a rude representation of a tankard of 
ale; beneath which was painted the name of the host. 
The latter, on a nearer approach, we were able, with 
some difficulty, to decipher; and we found it to be the 
name of which we were in search —“Karl Krause .” 

Without any unnecessary observance of ceremony, we 
entered the house, and proceeded towards the interior; 
guided more by the sound of voices from within, than by 
the uncertain light; which, being admitted only by 
the doorway, was nearly obscured by our persons. Pre¬ 
sently we found ourselves in a middling-sized room; which, 
in the absence of windows, was lighted by a solitary iron 
cruse, that dangled fromj the ceiling. The earthen floor 
had recently been sprinkled with clean sand ; and several 
small tables and a few chairs were placed up and down, 
for the accommodation, apparently, of customers. 

The only occupants of the room, when we entered, 
were two men ; who were seated at one of the tables, 
smoking cigars and drinking beer. One of them was a 
man apparently about thirty years of age, with a finely- 
moulded countenance; the expression of which,however, 
was a good deal marred, by a dark scowling look, restless 
fiery eyes, and long overhanging black hair. He was 
dressed in a sailor’s or perhaps more strictly, a fisher¬ 
man’s costume. A pair of huge wide boots, into which 
were stuffed the legs of his loose blue trousers, extended 
up as far as the bend of the knee. A coarse brown mon* 

10 * 







114 


THE MIDDY. 


key-jacket, with large horn buttons, occupied the place of 
a coat; and, being thrown open for the comfort of the 
wearer, displayed a broad leathern belt round the waist, 
in which were stuck a brace of pistols and a clasp-knife. 
His companion appeared to be a man about forty-five ; 
and one of the most ferocious-looking fellows I had almost 
ever seen. He was square-built, strong, and broad-chest¬ 
ed ; with a countenance seamed in all directions with 
deep gashes and scars. His dress was much the same as 
that of the younger man, saving that he wore no belt; 
and the butts of his pistols were seen protruding from the 
pockets of his capacious double-breasted blue waistcoat. 

As we entered, both the strangers were eagerly engaged 
in conversation ; but our appearance suddenly silenced 
them ; and, as we took our places at an adjacent table, I 
observed that they eyed us attentively, and did not seem 
to be altogether satisfied with our intrusion. 

In a few minutes our host appeared ; and there was cer¬ 
tainly nothing in his exterior that justified the account 
given of him by Moses. He was a portly, jolly-looking 
Boniface ; with his person completely enveloped in a large 
circular apron ; which was fastened up close under his 
chin, and extended almost to his feet. He accosted us 
with much apparent cordiality ; smirking and smiling like 
a true son of the trade. 

“ JJnd was befelilen Sic, meine Herren ?” he said, in a 
most respectful tone. 

As we had previously determined that we should avail 
ourselves of such knowledge ot German as the sergeant 
happened to possess, for the laudable purpose of eaves¬ 
dropping only ; we, in our own tongue, informed our bow¬ 
ing host that we were Englishmen, and would thank him 
to accommodate us with a pot of English beer, pipes, and 
tobacco. 

“ Certainly, gentlemen, certainly !” replied mine host, 
with perfect fluency and propriety of pronunciation j as 
he bustled away to execute our commands. 

A brace of foaming tankards were soon produced ; and 
in a few minutes we were enveloped in a dense cloud of 
tobacco smoke. 4 he redoubted Karl, meantime, bustled 
^bout the room; arranging the tables and chairs, or re- 


\ 







THE MIDDY. 


115 


moving empty glasses and dishes. The elder of the two 
strangers, both of whom had maintained an inviolable 
silence since our entrance, continued to eye him all the 
while with an impatient expression of face; much in the 
same manner as a cat watches the motions of a mouse, 
preparatory to making a decisive pounce on her prey. 

At length, as the unsuspicious host passed near the 
chair of his guest, the latter clutched him by the shoulder, 
and muttered between his half-closed teeth—“ Du alter 
dummer Teufel Du ■/” at the same time giving him a 
shake so hearty as almost to knock him off his equili¬ 
brium.* 

“ Why, what ails thee, now, Andre, my lad,” replied 
Karl; with great equanimity. “ Dost lake me for a sack 
of bran that thou shak’st me so?” 

“ I take thee for a sack of arrant stupidity,” replied 
Andre. “ What the devil do you mean by allowing 
strangers to come into the room when we are here ?” 

“ Why, for the matter of that, Andre, dear,” replied 
i the host; “ my house is a public, and open to all customers ; 
and, trust me, I’m not the man to keep it empty a whole 
evening for the matter of a couple of cigars and a pot of 
small ale.” 

“ Thou dolt !” cried Andre, in a tone of great indigna¬ 
tion ; “ what’s thy house to me? Could I not, by a wink 
of my finger, blow it up about your ears, and send you to 
dangle your overgrown carcase oil the cross-beam at 
Green Point?”f 

“ Two of us can play at winking of fingers, Andre, my 
lad,” replied Karl ; “and, if you commence the game, I 
warrant me I could have you hanging yourself, high and 
dry, at that same Green Point, before to-morrow’s sun go 
down.” 

“I defy thee, thou craven!” cried Andre. “Look 
here, Karl,” he continued, pointing to the butt of his pis¬ 
tol ; before thou could’st raise thy finger, this would bite 
it off.” 

“ D—rt your gewgaws,” replied Karl. “ You know, 

* The remainder of this dialogue was carried on in German ; and, 
I give it as it was afterwards reported to me by the sergeant. 

j- The place of common execution. 





116 


THE MIDDY. 


Andre, I had always the advantage of you when such 
playthings were in question.” 

“ The devil you had !” cried Andre. “ Let’s see then 
if your luck will attend you now and he drew a pistol, 
cocked it, and was about to present it at our host, when 
his companion laid hold of his arm. 

“ Have done with your brawling, you fools,” he said ; j 
in the haughty confident tone of a man who must not be j 
disobeyed. “Do you come here to quarrel like a couple 
of idle school-boys? Karl, I thought I knew you better. 
Andre, you were wont to have more discretion. Come ! 
shake hands and be friends.” The hopeful couple growl¬ 
ed an assent, and shook hands with apparent cordiality. 

“ And now, Karl,” continued the younger of the two 
strangers; “ tell me when you expect this new recruit.” 

“ It is now very near the time he appointed, sir,” re¬ 
plied Karl. “ I expect him here at six o’clock.” 

“ So! And is he likely to be a useful hand, think you, 
Karl? We want no half-and-half milksops, jou know.” 

“ Why, sir, to say the truth, I think he’s a fellow that 
will improve. He spent last night here ; and I think I 
could make a man of him shortly. He drinks his liquor 
heartily ; swears a good round oath, and is damnably in 
want of the rhino !” 

“ Very good qualities, certainly, Karl. Has he served 
at sea ?” 

“ Ay, ay, sir; six years and more before the mast; and 
he is completely up to the management of a craft such as 
ours.” 

“ What service was he in ?” 

“ The English service, sir.” 

“ Better and better. Why did he leave it?” 

“Because he tired of it, sir. It was too dull a life for 
one of his active disposition ; and, besides, he wished to 
see the world a bit, and to finger a little honest-gotten 
gear. He tells me he has been long looking out for an 
opportunity to join our jolly boys ; and so he e’en gave 
his messmates the slip yesterday, when they were lying 
alongside the quay with the captain’s gig.” 

“ All very good indeed, Karl; and thou didst well to 
secure so promising a recruit. But you must clear the 






THE MIDDY. 


117 


room of those interlopers, my lad, before he come, as I 
wish to have some conversation with him ; and I suppose 
I must speak to him in English.” 

“Ay, ay, sir; leave that to me,” said Karl; and, with 
many grimaces and bows, he approached our table, and 
intimated to us that, if we had finished our liquor, we 
would favour him very much by making way for some 
guests whom he expected shortly, and who had engaged 
the whole room. 

Not having understood a word of the previous dialogue, 
I wished, before going, to have some conversation with 
Karl on the subject of our deserter; but on a hint from 
the sergeant, I remained silent; and, having discharged 
our reckoning, we took our leave. 

On reaching the street, my companion gave me a full 
account of all that had passed ; and both of us were of 
opinion that the expected recruit was no other than 
Stubbs. We determined, therefore, to wait his arrival at 
the end of the lane ; and, should we be right in our con¬ 
jecture, to seize upon him as soon as he made his appear¬ 
ance. An open common passage in one of the houses 
afforded us a favourable place for our ambuscade; and 
there, accordingly, we took up our station. 

Nor had we long to wait. In a few minutes a jolly 
Dutch skipper hove in sight, in whom we had no diffi¬ 
culty in recognising Stubbs. He, however, was as alert 
at recognition as we were ; for we had no sooner emerged 
from our place of concealment, than he instantly descried 
us ; and, turning sharply round on his heel, he ran off at 
the very top of his speed. After him darted the sergeant 
and myself; overturning one or two passengers in our 
haste, and astonishing many more, who stood gazing at 
us in amazement as we dashed along ; marvelling doubt¬ 
less what the Dutch skipper could have done to offend the 
English merchant. 

In cases like this, however, the main stream of popular 
suspicion generally sets in against the pursued ; and se¬ 
veral daring attempts were made to intercept the progress 
of the flying Dutchman. Stubbs, however, was an adept 
at the practice of “right and left;” and, no sooner was 
any one hardy enough to lay hands on him, than he was. 





118 


THE MIDDY. 


received at the point of the fist, and speedily prostrated in 
the street, with a cut eye or a bloody nose. 

At length, as such imminent danger was found to attend 
the enterprise of capturing him, he was permitted to pur- 
sije his course uninterrupted ; and a pretty chase he led 
u§. He plunged into every lane ; darted into every cross 
street; and, at length, after a variety of doublings and 
windings, he led us into the public walk in the neighbour¬ 
hood of the governor’s house. 

Here, the trees and fences afforded him ample scope 
for deploying; and out and in he jumped and jinketted; 
we being sometimes close at his heels, sometimes con¬ 
siderably distanced. By dint of good lungs and active 
limbs, however, we succeeded at length in beating him 
out of this fastness ; when he darted down the Heergraft, 
cleared one palisade of the Grand Parade, ran across, 
cleared the other, and made for the shore. 

Here, not far from the beach, stands, or did stand, a 
range of public store-houses, unconnected with any other 
building, and divided from the public shambles by a nar¬ 
row lane. Stubbs took his direction past the open side 
of this building, apparently shaping his course for the 
beach. We were close upon him at the moment, but it 
occurred to me that he intended to elude us by making a 
complete circuit of the building; and thus, escaping un¬ 
noticed on the other side. I accordingly left the sergeant 
to follow him in the direction he had taken, while I ran 
round the other side; thus making sure of him, if he at¬ 
tempted to practise the ruse I imagined. 

Nor was my conjecture erroneous. Scarcely had I 
turned into the narrow lane which divides the store-houses 
from the shambles, when I descried him coming down 
upon me at full speed, followed at no great distance by the 
sergeant. The lane was so narrow that he could not pos¬ 
sibly pass me ; so he had no alternative but to surrender 
or to knock me down. Forward he came, his nostrils 

ex r;; de i ’ hlS r S u- rt . and waistcoat tor n open at the breast: 
him 116 llS ^ Ut(dl coat loosely behind 

There was no time to hesitate. With an expression 
ot desperation in his countenance, he doubled his fist 








THE MIDDY. 


119 


and bent his arm, in such a manner as to bring his hand 
close to his ear. In this attitude he approached within a 
yard of me. I stopped, and steadied myself to receive 
the expected blow ; but just at that moment, something 
like irresolution seemed to come over him. He faltered 
for an instant; I took advantage of the opportunity ; and 
with a single spring, 1 was hanging at his collar. 

It was now that the blow fell; and hitting me with great 
violence on the head, almost stunned me. I, however, 
still kept my hold, notwithstanding the repeated and hard 
blows he dealt me; and I succeeded in retarding his 
course sufficiently to allow the sergeant time to come up. 

His fury was now turned towards my companion. 
Mustering all his strength, with a single effort he hurled 
me from my hold, and put himself in an attitude of defence. 
A combat ensued that might have done credit to the 
English ring. 

Both men were expert bruisers, and each was bent upon 
yictory. The sergeant, however, had right on his ‘side, 
and received his adversary with the most collected cool¬ 
ness ; while the nerves of poor Stubbs were unsteadied 
by conscious guilt and desperation. He exhausted him- 
e self in fruitless attempts to strike his opponent, who par¬ 
ried his blows with the most exemplary calmness ; never 
wasting a hit that did not tell. 

After a few fierce rounds, Stubbs became unsteady, and 
began to falter ; when the sergeant, watching his oppor¬ 
tunity, dealt him a decisive blow on the right temple, which 
laid him sprawling and bloody on the ground. 

When he was sufficiently recovered, we fastened a 
rope’s-end round his wrists; carried him to the boat, which 
was waiting for us at the quay; and rowed off with all 
1 despatch to the ship. 

“ What! Mr. Lascelles,” said Captain Morley, as soon 
as we arrived on deck ; “you are covered with blood ! 
Did the fellow offer violent resistance ?” 

“ He certainly did not give in, sir,” I replied, “ imme¬ 
diately on the first summons.” 

“ The villain,” said Morley ; “ did he dare to lift his 

hand to his officer V* 

“ He did, an’t please your honour,” said the sergeant; 


II 






THE MIDDY. 


120 

“ and I warrant he would have served him out, too, had I 
not come to his assistance.” . ' 

“ Put the scoundrel in irons!” cried Morley, in a voice 
of thunder. “ He shall hang at the yard-arm for this, if 
ever I punished a man in my life!” 

“ But, sir,” said 1, in a tone of intercession; “ I am 
only slightly hurt, and I hope, sir-” 

“ Silence, sir!” cried the captain, in a voice of extreme 
agitation. “ Silence ! and let the doctor look to your 
wounds!” 

But I had not a thought to bestow upon my wounds. 
The whole evening 1 brooded over the idea that, if this 
poor fellow should suffer, his death would lie at my door. 
His desertion might have been pardoned ; nay, almost cer¬ 
tainly, would have been pardoned ; but it was for striking 
an office—for striking me —that the last punishment was 
to be awarded ! I felt perfectly miserable. 

It chanced that the middle watch was mine. I paced 
the deck in a most unenviable state of mind; thinking by 
what means I might succeed in mitigating the captain’s 
intended sentence. But I knew that Morley, though in¬ 
dulgent, was a rigid disciplinarian ; and that, though always 
inclined to overlook trivial offences, he was, nevertheless 
severe in the punishment of crimes. He had passed the 
sentence ; and he had done so with that peculiar manner 
which he generally assumed when he meant that what he 
said should be irrrevocable. 

Eight bells of my watch had sounded ; and I descended 
to my berth feverish and disinclined to sleep. On my 
way down, I had to pass the place were poor Stubbs was 
lying. As I drew near I heard his irons rattle. I shud¬ 
dered ; my blood froze in my veins. I advanced a few 
steps, and almost came in contact with the pallet on which 
he lay. All was still as death. Again the irons rattled ; 
the bed clothes moved ; and a voice whispered in my 
ear— ' . 

“Oh! Mr. Lascelles; save me !” 

“ How ?” 

“ A file !” 

It was the work of an instant. I passed on, and tossed 
him a file from the armourer’s bench. 






THE MIDDY. 


121 


In the morning, when I came on deck, the first thing 
I learned was that Stubbs was gone ; and that his irons 
were, filed. How the file had been procured was matter of 
wonder and conjecture to all. I, of course, was wise 
enough to keep my own counsel ; quite satisfied that, as 
the fellow was an excellent swimmer, he was, by that time, 
safe ashore; and beyond the reach of pursuit. 





VOL. I.-11 








122 


THE MIDDY. 


CHAPTER XII. 

. * • - V 

A CAPE-TOWN EXECUTION. 


The light we see is burning in my hall. 

How far that little candle throws its beams! 

So shines a good deed in a naughty world ! 

Merchant of Venice. 


Mais enfin que voulez-vous? 
a ce pays la! 


C’est une mode de retribution propre 
La Vie de Napoleon. 


My head ached so severely, in consequence of the rough 
usage I had received at the hands of Stubbs, that I was 
fain to retire below for quiet. 

On reflecting over the affair of the preceding night, 
though I felt, upon the whole, satisfied with myself for 
the part I had taken ; I was, at the same time, conscious 
that, however good my intentions, and however justifiable 
on the score of humanity, I had certainly, to say the least 
of it, been guilty of a very great impropriety ; and I knew 
that, if detected, I would be justly liable to severe punish¬ 
ment. 


It is true, that from my knowledge of Captain Morley’s 
character, I thought it probable that he himself was not 
altogether dissatisfied that the unfortunate man should 
have escaped; yet still the circumstances were such as 
demanded investigation; and I knew that, if the culprit 
were discovered, justice would be sternly administered. 
I did not wish that what I had done were undone ; on the 
contrary, I felt that, under similar circumstances, I would 
have acted in the same manner again; but still, I could 
not divest myself of the anxiety that ever attends con¬ 
scious guilt, or prevent myself from wishing that the af¬ 
fair was safely over. 

I was roused from my reverie by the sound of the boat¬ 
swain’s pipe calling all hands on deck. I jumped hastily 
from my 3eat; and, with a beating heart, obeyed the sum¬ 
mons. 




THE MIDDY. 


123 


Captain Morley was standing on the quarter-deck, sur¬ 
rounded by his officers ; the rest of the crew occupied a 
place a little forward. I took my station among the 
former. 

“ I have called you up, my men,” said the captain; 
stepping a little in advance, and assuming a very serious 
expression of countenance ; “ and you also, gentlemen,” 
he continued, turning to the officers ; “ in consequence of 
the very unaccountable escape of the deserter; whose 
atrocious conduct, in adding to the crime of desertion the 
heinous offence of lifting his hand to an officer, would 
most probably have drawn down upon him a court-martial’s 
sentence of death. You are all aware that the prisoner 
was securely ironed yesterday; and that he disappeared 
during the night; his irons being filed. Now, from the 
situation in which he was placed, it is impossible that he 
could have procured the file, which is marked with the 
King’s mark, without assistance; and it is my determina¬ 
tion to sift the matter to the bottom, and endeavour to dis¬ 
cover the individual who could lend himself in such a 
manner to defeat the ends of justice. Sorry I am to think, 
that any man serving under me should have been guilty of 
so great a crime; indeed, such is my confidence in you 
all, that I consider it only right to say to you beforehand, 
that I do not at this moment attach suspicion to any parti¬ 
cular individual. Justice and the credit of the service, 
however, demand that I should not pass over the affair 
unnoticed; and, depend upon it, if I succeed in discovering 
the criminal, the very heaviest penalty shall be awarded.” 

I must have changed colour at least a dozen times dur¬ 
ing the delivery of this address; every word of which 
went like a dagger to my heart; and I slunk behind my 
companions to avoid observation. 

The armourer was first called for examination ; and he 
declared that he had deposited all his tools in the bench 
before retiring to his hammock ; and that the file must 
have been taken from thence, though he was ignorant by 
whom. He farther declared that he himself had never 
left his hammock, from the time he went to it till after 
daylight in the morning ; in which statement he was borne 
out by the evidence of his messmates, 






124 


THE MIDDY. 


A formal examination of the officers and men connected 
with the several night-watches was now entered upon; 
but not the slightest evidence was elicited. No one had 
seen the prisoner; and all declared, that they had neither 
themselves been near the armourer’s bench, nor did they 
know of any one who had been. 

One of the men only, who had been upon the watch 
immediately preceding mine, threw some light on the af¬ 
fair ; by declaring that the prisoner was safe at the time of 
his being relieved. 

“ As I went below, sir,” said he ; “ he called to me ; 
and asked me to fetch him a little water.” 

“ And did you take the water to him, sir ?” inquired 
the captain. 

“ I did, sir,” replied the man ; “ and I hope no harm. 
The poor fellow said he was dying for thirst.” 

“ No harm at all, sir,” said Morley ; “ you did right 
to take the water. But did nothing besides this pass be¬ 
tween the prisoner and you?” 

“ After he had taken the water, sir, he thanked me; 
and said it was a hard thing for so young a man as he was 
to lose the number of his mess in that dog fashion.” 

“ And did you make any reply to this, sir?” 

“Yes, sir. I said to him, ‘Thomas,’ says I, ‘you 
know you’ve deserved it;’ and he gave a sort of groan, 
sir, and I came off and left him.” 

My watch was the next; and, when my own turn for 
examination came, I stood forward with a palpitating 
heart. In consequence of the bruises of the preceding 
day, my forehead was bound round with a napkin ; and 
one of my cheeks was much swollen and discoloured. 

On being asked what information I could give on the 
subject; I stated that, at the time of my being relieved, 
the prisoner was still on board. 

“ How did you ascertain that, sir?” said Captain Mor¬ 
ley. 

“ As I went down below, sir,” I replied ; “ I passed 
near the place where he lay ; and I heard his irons rattle.” 

“ Did it occur to you to look more narrowly at him 
when you passed so near?” 

“ The light at the time, sir, was very uncertain; but 


THE MIDDY. 


125 

! I could see him moving slightly beneath the coverlet of 
his pallet.” 

“ Did he seem to be asleep ?” 

“ He groaned heavily, sir.” 

“ Ay !” said Morley; “ as men do when their slumber 
is disturbed. Poor wretch ! well might his be a restless 
pillow. Mr. Lascelles, you may retire. Edward Graham, 
stand forward.” 

Graham belonged to the watch that succeeded mine. 

“ Did anything unusual occur during your watch, sir ?” 
said the captain, addressing him. 

“ Nothing, sir ; till after five bells.” 

“ What happened then, sir ?” 

“ I was forward on the forecastle at the time, sir; and 
I heard a heavy plunge in the water.” 

“ Ha !” said Captain Morley ; “ and what did you do ?” 

“ I looked over the side of the ship, sir ; for though the 
morning was dark, there was sufficient light to show the 
surface of the water distinctly. But, though I continued 
to look for a considerable time, sir, I could discover no¬ 
thing.” 

“ Did it not occur to you to report what you had heard 
to the officer of the watch ?” 

“ No, sir. The sound was exactly such as I have often 
heard the fish make when they are playing round the bows 
of the ship; and I thought no more about it.” 

The rest of the men and officers were all severally ques¬ 
tioned ; but nothing farther was elicited that seemed to 
bear at all upon the subject. When the investigation was 
concluded, Captain Morley addressed us nearly as fol¬ 
lows :— 

“ Having now made every inquiry in my power into 
this affair, I am bound to state that, throughout the whole 
investigation, nothing has transpired that can tend to at¬ 
tach the slightest suspicion to any individual here. If 
there be any one among you who is conscious of guilt, I 
regret extremely that the ends of justice should have been 
defeated. But I am more inclined to adopt another ex¬ 
planation of the affair; and to suppose that the prisoner, 
foreseeing the probable result of his crime, had the file 
concealed about his person, at the time he was taken.— 

11 * 






126 


THE MIDDY. 


Be this, however, as it may ; you must rest assured that 
I do not harbour the slightest suspicion of any individual 
among you. You have all answered the questions I put 
with the unembarrassed candour of honest men. Pipe 
down, Mr. Parsons !” 

This address was received with a loud cheer, and the 
crew dispersed. 1 returned to the midshipmen’s berth, 
not a little relieved that the affair had taken so favourable 
a turn. 

It was rather more than a week before I recovered the 
effects of my bruises, and was allowed to have the band¬ 
ages removed from my head. During all this time the 
doctor confined me on board ; and heartily did I envy 
my shipmates who were every day making excursions on 
shore. 

At length I was pronounced convalescent; and eagerly 
did I avail myself of an invitation which the captain gave 
to the “young gentlemen,” to accompany him on a visit 
to the company’s gardens and menagerie. 

It was a delightful day for such an excursion ; and, as 
we pulled ashore, we conversed of all the wonders we 
should see ; especially of the wild beasts, which have 
been the subject of so many marvellous descriptions ; 
though Pidcock’s certainly out-marvels them all. 

We had scarcely quitted our boat, when we descried 
a great concourse ofpeople crowding up Justice-street, and 
surrounding the door of the prison. 

“ Pray,” said Captain Morley ; addressing a respecta¬ 
ble-looking man who was hurrying forward with the rest; 
“ do you hold holiday here this morning, my friend, that 
the streets are so unusually crowded ?” 

“O no, sir,” replied the man.. “ It is only some pri¬ 
soners going out to execution.” 

“ Only some prisoners going out to execution !” re¬ 
joined the captain. “Is this then so common a matter in 
Cape Town ?” 

“ Why, as to that, sir, common enough ; and there 
would not have been such a stir made about it, had it not 
been that the people have taken a sort of interest in one of 
the prisoners ; and they are anxious to see him suffer.” 

“Very kind and considerate in the people indeed,” 


THE MIDDY. 


127 


replied the captain. “ Pray for what was this interesting 
culprit condemned ?” 

“ For theft, sir ! But see ; they are opening the prison 
gates, and the procession will be out immediately.” 

The gates were opened accordingly ; and the unfortu¬ 
nate culprits issued forth, surrounded by a guard of soldiers. 

“ These five men, sir,” continued our informant, “ walk¬ 
ing in the centre, are felons ; and they are to be hanged 
for various crimes—two of them for murder. The other 
men and women, walking behind, have not been guilty of 
anything deserving death, and they are only to be flogged 
beneath the gallows. And look, sir, do you see that tall 
handsome young man with the large black whiskers, 
walking near that haggard-looking old woman there ? 
That is the man that the people take such an interest in, 
sir. 

Both Captain Morley and myself looked towards the 
individual whom our informant pointed out; and what 
was our surprise, when we recognised in him the same 
intrepid seaman, who had behaved so gallantly at the 
wreck of the English merchantman. 

“ Is it possible 1” said Captain Morley; “ can this man 
be guilty of theft? Why, he is the same who behaved 
so well the other day at the wreck !” 

“ He is, sir; and that is the reason why the people are 
so interested about him, and have come out to see him 
punished.” 

“ Strange !” said Morley. “Are you sure, my friend, 
there may be no mistake about all this ?” 

“ None, sir. He swam out to the wreck at high water, 
the evening after the vessel struck, and carried off a few 
little trinkets ; some necklaces and ear-rings, I believe, 
belonging to the passengers. And I dare say there would 
never have been a word heard about it, sir; for, after all, 
the things are of no great value ; if he had not gone and 
pawned them at Karl Krause’s for drink. There was a 
search in Karl’s house for some other stolen articles, when 
these were found, and so the affair came out.” 

“ And did he confess having stolen them?” 

“ He was brought before the magistrate, sir, and con¬ 
fessed at once that he had taken them from the ship. He 






128 


THE MIDDY. 


said that he had no money; that he had lost much of 
what he might have saved had he attended merely to his 
own concerns at the wreck; and he declared he thought 
there was little harm in taking the things, especially when 
the owners themselves had given them up for lost; the 
wreck being at the time abandoned. And indeed, sir, I 
think there was a great deal of reason in all this.’’ 

“ And still the magistrate sentenced him to punishment?” 

“ Why, sir, the magistrate was rather inclined to acquit 
him; but the persons to whom the trinkets belonged 
declared that he must have stolen more than he confessed 
to, and insisted on his being punished; and so the magis¬ 
trate could not be off having him flogged, sir.” 

“ Good God !” cried Morley, “ the very persons who 
owed their lives and properties to his address and activity!” 

“ Aye indeed, sir, and the more shame to them for not, 
recollecting his services. An odd sort of way this, sir, 
of rewarding a man for his good deeds !” 

The procession had by this time moved forward to 
Somerset Road, to the sound of a Cape-Dutch dead- 
march ; not the most harmonious music in the world. 

“ Mr. Lascelles,” said Captain Morley to me, “ I find 
I shall have business with the governor this morning; so 
we must postpone our visit to the gardens till another day. 
You and the other young gentlemen may amuse yourselves 
in the meantime as you think fit; but see you are in the 4 
way when I return on board.” 

I bowed, and Captain Morley went off and left us. 

The plans of my messmates and myself were speedily 
settled ; we agreed to go forward with the crowd and 
witness the execution. The procession soon emerged 
from the town, and held its way along Green Point; at 
the further extremity of which the unfortunate malefactors 
were to suffer. 

I had never before been present at a spectacle of the 
kind; and my heart sickened at the sight of the insignia 
of death. On an elevated grassy mound near the extrem¬ 
ity of Green Point, stood the gallows; which consisted 
of two upright posts about ten feet in height, joined near 
the top by a strong cross-beam, from which dangled the 
fatal ropes. Removed a few paces from this, stood a 


THE MIDDY. 


129 


of 

18 

lit 

ill 

;e 

I 


it 

d 

(1 


o 

i 

t 


) 






strong stake, at which the prisoners sentenced to be 
flogged were to suffer. A huge fire, over which stood the 
tall brawny black who had charge of the branding-irons, 
was blazing between. The soldiers formed a ring round 
the whole, in the centre of which the prisoners were 
placed. 

Altogether, it was a scene made up of a group of hideous 
objects, in the midst of a lovely amphitheatre. The 
stupendous height of Lion’s Rump reared itself up in the 
background ; in front lay the silvery bay, its tranquil 
waters playing round the ruins of the stately ship, at 
whose wreck the unfortunate sailor had a few days before 
acted so nobly. 

Soon after our arrival, the mournful music ceased ; all 
except a mulfled drum, which continued to beat with a 
harsh monotonous sound. 

The five felons now mounted a small table placed under 
the gallows; the ropes w r ere adjusted round their necks ; 
a dirty, slovenly-looking, clergyman mumbled over a form 
of prayer; the executioner pushed away the table from 
beneath their feet; and there the poor wretches hung in 
middie air, struggling awhile in their brief agony. 

“ Why, what’s the meaning of this, Mr. Greenpig,” 
cried the sergeant in command; observing that the poor 
men continued to struggle unusually long ; “ you’ve surely 
made a bungled job of it! Are we to be kept here all 
day looking at these fellows cutting their capers !” 

The executioner, who was a tall muscular fellow, re¬ 
spectably habited in a suit of black, hearing himself thus 
addressed, replaced the table ; jumped up on it with great 
agility ; and, casting his arms round the neck of each of 
his victims successively, threw the weight of his person 
upon them, and hung there till they ceased to move. 

“ They’ll cut no more capers now, I warrant them !” 
he cried ; jumping down, and grinning a sort of smile. 

“ Sambo ! you black thief; are the irons ready ?” 

“ Hey ya, massa ; hot an’ hot bery !” replied Sambo ; 
flourishing a branding-iron, glowing red, in the air. 

“Well, turn to, my fine fellows; and see you pitch it 
well into the ladies and gentlemen here !” 

Some half dozen gaunt negroes, each furnished with 








130 


THE MIDDY. 


vvliat appeared to be a bunch of reeds or canes, stood for- 1 
ward as the sergeant spoke, and took their station at the j 
foot of the gallows. , y 1 

The first of the culprits was now brought out and 
stripped ; a rope was fastened round his wrists, and rove 
through a hole at the top of the stake. By this rope the 
unfortunate wretch was hauled up till he touched the 
ground only with the tips of his toes ; and that not in 
such a manner as to afford him any support. Ilis whole 
weight depended from his wrists. 

When he was fairly fastened up in this position, the 1 
negroes commenced the flagellation ; each giving him a 
scourge, and then passing on in a circle round the gallows. 
At first, they went leisurely; but, before the operation 
was concluded, they were running at full speed ; their 
blows keeping time to a sort of savage song, which they 
yelled forth in a most discordant manner. The blood 
streamed from the poor fellow’s back, and the cries he 
gave were appalling. At length, his voice became so 
weak as scarcely to be audible: and he was then taken 
down and removed. 

The same disgusting punishment was inflicted on the 
rest in the same manner; but there was one whose ap¬ 
pearance I shall never forget. 

The individual to whom I allude was a female, who, it 
seemed, was an old transgressor, and had before been fre¬ 
quently punished. She was now to be flogged, branded, ' 
and banished to Robin’s Island. She was a woman ap¬ 
parently about the middle age; tall and robust, with a 
masculine, almost a ferocious, expression of countenance. 

Her back being bared to receive the stripes, she was 
tied up by the wrists like the rest. The negroes com¬ 
menced their savage yell, and run round and round ; in- I 
dieting such blows as made the blood spring at every ap¬ 
plication. The unfortunate culprit endured it all without 
a groan ; her head hanging over her shoulder, which she 
appeared to gnaw with her teetli ; as if to prevent her 
from giving utterance to her agony. 

At last the red-hot brand was brought. A slight hiss¬ 
ing sound was heard ; and a thin column of blue smoke 
curled up into the air as it was applied. The unfeeling 









THE MIDDY. 


131 


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( 

1 

e 

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ft 

e 

> 

it 

3 .. 

J 

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a 

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3 

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ft* 

P* 

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er 


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executioner pressed it hard into the very quick. It was 
more than human fortitude could endure ; a shriek of 
agony, the first she had uttered, burst from the wretched 
woman’s lips ; and, when the rope was slackened, she 
sunk upon the ground, a mass of inanimate, disfigured 
flesh. 

By the civility of the sergeant, who had charge of the 
soldiers, my comrades and myself had been admitted 
within the ring, to obtain a closer view of this appalling 
spectacle. There now remained only three of the pris¬ 
oners unpunished ; and as the rest, one after another, had 
been led away, I found myself standing close beside the 
unhappy sailor. The poor fellow was dressed in the 
identical coat which Strangways had given him ; divested, 
however, of its uniform buttons, which he had probably 
sold. I observed that he looked hard several times at 
me ; as if he wished to speak, but was restrained either 
by fear or shame. At length he inclined his head slightly, 
and whispered in my ear : 

“You are a sailor; would you win a sailor’s grati¬ 
tude ?” 

“ What do you mean?” I replied, in the same under 
tone. 

“ Lend me your dirk !” 

“ For what purpose ?” said I; “you could never cut 
your way through so many armed men.” 

“ I would not be foolish enough to attempt it,” he re¬ 
joined ; “ but, though I cannot escape from the soldiers, 
if you will lend me your dirk, I shall, at least, escape 
from punishment.” 

“ In what way?” I inquired. 

“ By death !” he replied, grasping my arm. “ One 
plunge of ihat weapon in my bosom, and the mark of ig¬ 
nominy shall never be attached to my name ! Quick!— 
quick ! for the love of God !—the executioner comes !” 

The executioner was at our side as he spoke. 

“ Come along, my friend,” said he; as he began to ad¬ 
just the rope round the poor fellow’s wrists; “ it’s your 
turn now; and you may think yourself lucky in being so 
late in the list. My bony blacks are beginning to get a 
little blown by the business !” 








THE MIDDY. 


132 


The sailor cast a look of reproach at me; but without 

anv reply he suffered himself to be bound. 

“ Now use your limbs a bit, my lad,” said the execution¬ 
er • “ you’re too heavy for me to drag and he gave t e 
rope a sharp tug as if to urge him forward. The firm con¬ 
stancy expressed in the poor fellow’s countenance did not 
for a moment forsake him ; he listened to the executioner, 


but did not move a step. 

“Come, my friend,” said the sergeant, respectfully , 
“you must advance to the stake. I am sorry for you, but 
we must do our duty.” , . . 

“ If you are really sorry for me, said the prisoner , 
“ you have an opportunity of showing it.” 

“If I could do any thing to alleviate your punishment, 
said the sergeant; whom the peculiar circumstances ot 
the sailor’s case seemed a little to have softened. 

“ You can!” cried the prisoner, eagerly. 


“ The muskets of your soldiers are loaded ; let one of 
them be discharged through my heart ! 

At this moment there was a slight movement among the 
crowd ; the ranks opened, and Captain Morley stepped into 

the circle. ! 

“ Before you proceed to punish this man,” said he, ad¬ 
dressing the civil officer who superintended the execution, 
“ be kind enough to look at this paper. 

The officer bowed, took the paper, and read it. 

“ Unbind the man, Mr. Greenpig,” he said, addressing 
the executioner. “ Here is the governor’s full pardon ! 

A loud cheer burst from the soldiers, and was echoed 
back by the surrounding multitude when this was proclaim¬ 
ed. The executioner removed the cords from the prison¬ 
er’s wrists, and told him he was free. No change of coun- 
nance in the liberated man followed this unexpected an-! 
nouncement. He turned round to Captain Morley ; and, 
from his steady unaltered look, no one could divine what 
feelings were at work within his breast. 

“ sir,” said he; “ I thank you for this kindness. I am 
sorry that I have nothing more than thanks to give ; but, 
should I ever have an opportunity of offering a more sub¬ 
stantial requittal, depend upon it you shall not find Rich¬ 
ard Wolfe ungrateful !” 




THE MIDDY. 


133 


“I perceive, my friend,” said Morley, “you are not a 
man of many words ; neither am I. Have you been long 
at sea?” 

“ Since I was strong enough to handle a marlinspike, 
sir.” 

“ Will you sail with me ?” 

“ Ay, sir ; to the world’s end !” 

“ Then come on board the Hesperus to-morrow morning 
at ten o’clock.” 

“ Enough said, sir. I shall attend.” 

At the conclusion of this brief dialogue, we left the ap¬ 
palling scene of punishment and death ; and the blessings 
of the multitude were showered upon us as we passed. 


So shines a good deed in a naughty world ! 









134 


THE MIDDY. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 

Thou hid’st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, 

Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart, 

To stab at half-an-hour of my frail life ! 

Henri IV. 

Our business in Cape Town being concluded, we 
weighed, and proceeded to Simon’s Bay. * 

After encountering a severe gale, in which we sprung 
our bowsprit and foremast both badly, we entered the outer, 
or False Bay, as it is termed; among whose deceitful wa¬ 
ters so many confiding ships have been lured to their de¬ 
struction. 

The scenery of this beautiful estuary is unique ; and 
peculiarly striking to one who views it, as I did, for the first 
time. We coasted up the left side of the bay ; so close in 
shore, that the lofty hills, which rise abruptly from the 
water’s edge, seemed almost to overhang us. On our 
right the prospect was closed by the beautifully outlined 
hills of Hottentot Holland; which, stretching far away 
into the distance, were bathed in that lovely tint of ethereal 
blue, in which the “ region of burning suns and balmy 
breezes” can alone invest its landscapes. Straight in 
front, the coast was comparatively low and undulated, and 
bound round, at the water’s edge, by a bright ring of glit¬ 
tering white sand ; which was here and there hid from the 
view, as it followed the mazy labyrinth of the deeply- in¬ 
dented bays and creeks adjoining Muisenberg. The pla¬ 
cid waters of the bay, hemmed in on all sides by the land, 
lay round us like some sequestered inland lake. 

Altogether, the prospect wore an aspect at once solitary 
and imposing; and the soft murmuring of the weakened 
waters, as they glided from the bows of the ship, and the 
screeching of the seafowl that hovered round the masts, 


THE MIDDY. 


135 

almost inclined us to imagine that we were the first human 
beings that had ever intruded on the lonely spot. 

A scene of solitary grandeur ; 

Where sights were rough and sounds were wild, 

And everything unreconciled ; 

A dim, complaining, lone retreat, 

For fear and melancholy meet. 

But, when we had rounded the black rock of Noah’s 
Ark; and when Simon’s Bay, with its ships and boats, 
and busy beach, and white-walled town, burst upon the 
view, the charm was broken; and we were reminded 
that we “ lingered still among the haunts of men.” 

Our lime in Simon’s Bay was chiefly occupied in re¬ 
pairing the damage we had sustained during the gale; 
and, scarcely was our refit complete, when a brig arrived 
with despatches for Captain Morley, directing him to pro¬ 
ceed to Algoa Bay, to superintend the landing of some 
emigrants ; and from thence to go on to the Mauritius, to 
relieve a vessel on that station, whose time for foreign 
service was expired. 

Shortly before we : started on this cruise, the vessels, 
containing the emigrants entrusted to our care, arrived in 
Simon’s Bay; and I was sent to board one of them, and 
to bring the captain a list of the number and names of her 
passengers. 

I was received with great politeness by the agent of 
transport, who invited me to take a glass of wine in the 
cabin, while the required information was preparing. 

We had scarcely broached a bottle of very tolerable 
claret, when we were interrupted by the entrance of one 
of the emigrants; a venerable-looking old man, whose 
ribbed worsted stockings, cord breeches, and ponderous 
high-low shoes, indicated a respectable English farmer of 
the lower class. He wore a loose frock chat of coarse 
blue camlet; and.his thin silvery hair streamed out, in 
unshorn length, from beneath a broad blue bonnet, with a 
red cherry top-knot. There was something unobtrusively 
respectful, but at the same time independent, in his de¬ 
meanor; and the extremely benignant expression of his 
fine countenance and mild blue eye, prepossessed me at 
first sight in his favour. 






136 


THE MIDDY. 


“ I ax pardon,” said he, lifting his bonnet from his bald 
shining forehead as he entered, “ but I’se told as how 
this young gemman belongs to a ship called the Hes¬ 
perus ?” 

“ He does,” replied the master*; “ he is one of Captain 
Morley’s midshipmen,” 

“ Ay, Moarley,” said the man ; “ that be’s the very 
name of the captain that my Edward sails with. And 
how is’t with Edward, young man ?” 

“ I don’t exactly know, sir,” said I, “ to whom you 
allude.” 

“ Why, to Edward Settler, sure ! But very true, very 
true, there may be more Edwards nor one on board.” 

“If it be our first lieutenant you mean,” I replied, “I 
am happy to inform you that he is in perfect health.” 

“ Thank God for that!” said the old man ; “ I’se glad 
on’t—from my heart I’se glad on’t; for, though Edward 
hasn’t been a very good boy to me, yet he’s always my 
son, sir. Yes, I’ll never forget that he’s my son !” And, 
as he spoke, the old man brushed a rising tear from his 
eyelash. 

“ I sure, sir,” I replied, “ when Mr. Settler knows 
you are here, he will be delighted to see you ; and I shall 
be glad to have the pleasure of conveying you on board 
the Hesperus.” 

? 44 Thank you, sir—thank you,” said the old man; “I’ll 
e’en take advantage of your offer, and I’ll just step in and 
tell his old mother about it. The poor old woman is ill 
a-bed, sir; indeed, she has been ailing almost ever since 
we left England ; for it’s a hard thing, sir, for the likes of 
her and me to be obliged to leave our snug farm and our 

friends, and go down to the sea in ships at the fag end o’ 
our days.” 

44 you’ve brought your family with you?” I inquired. 

Why, yes sir, what could I do ? Ye know we were 
all turned out o’ house and hold by our landlord ; and, as 
I couldn’t see my own flesh and blood starve, I e’en took 
the king’s bounty, and brought them out here ; for, though 
England be’s a main good place to live in, sir, as long as 
a man has summut in his fob, it fares but badly there when 
the yellow Georges are lacking.” 



THE MIDDY. 


137 


«« How many are there of you ?” said I. 

* i Why, sir, there’s the old woman, and the three girls, 
and Edward’s wife.” 

“Edward’s wife !” said I; “ I did not know that Mr. 
Settler was married 1” 

“ Ay* troth is he, sir. He married before he sailed 
last time, and he sent his wife down to live with me in 
Yorkshire while he was away ; and, though she’s not a 
woman much after my mind, sir, the more especially as 
she has an ill trick of swearing, which it is not seemly 
for the girls to hearken to; and is, moreover, mayhap, a 
thought too fond of her can; yet I could not bring my 
heart to leave her, as she had no money, poor girl; and 
England, you know, sir, is a sad place.” 

When I gazed on the rustic, though venerable figure 
before me, and thought of all that our first lieutenant used 
to tell us about his father’s stud of racers and pack of fox¬ 
hounds, and of the good cheer and distinguished company 
to be met with at “the hall ; there was something so 
truly ridiculous in the contrast, that nothing but a feeling 
of compassion for the misfortunes of the old man enabled 
me to maintain my gravity. At the same time, I antici¬ 
pated not a little amusement from the process of dismount¬ 
ing Mr. Settler from his high horse ; a ceremony which I 
knew would bo performed by my shipmates with very 
little regard to anything but the excellence of the joke. 
And then his wife ! How often had I heard him maintain 
that no man but an arrant fool would marry ; that women 
were, at all times, plagues; but that as to wives, they 

were the very devil. . . 

“ If indeed,” he would exclaim, when this topic 

chanced to be under discussion ; “ if, indeed, a man could 
get quit of his wife as soon as he got tired of her, there 
might be some sense in it; but, blow me, if I d be tied to 
any woman for life. No! no! no matrimony for me; 
unless the good old days of King Solomon come backhand 
a man may have as many wives as he pleases ; and then, 

d—n me, I’ll have one in every port!” 

To be able to refute this amiable philosophy, by the 
production of a living evidence, promised to afford no 
small entertainment. 

12 * 








138 


THE MIDDY. 


As soon as I was furnished with the required documents, 
and the old man had taken leave of his wife, we left the 
ship ; and, in a few minutes, we stood on the deck of the 
Hesperus. \ - ' 

“ Is Mr. Settler on board at present?” I said to one of 
the midshipmen who stood at the gangway. 

“No,” he replied; “he went ashore into the town 
some half hour since.” 

“ Is Captain Morely in the cabin ?” 

“ He is.” 

“ Pray, take care of this gentleman,” I said; laying 
considerable emphasis on the latter epithet, which the ap¬ 
pearance of my companion seemed somewhat to contra¬ 
dict; “ take care of this gentleman till I go down and re¬ 
port myself. I shall return immediately.” 

When I entered the captain’s cabin, I found him engaged 
in reading ; as was his usual custom of a morning while 
in harbour. v. 

“ I am on board, sir,” I said. 

“ Well; and have you brought the lists I wanted?” 

“ I have them here, sir,” I replied; laying the docu¬ 
ments on the table. Captain Morley took them up and 
glanced them over. . - - r 

“ All’s right, I see, sir; you may retire.” 

“ Do you observe the name of a Mr. Settler, sir, among 
those of the other emigrants ?” I said, before quitting the 
cabin. ° 


“ I do—what of him ?” 

“ The gentleman is the first lieutenant’s father, sir.” 

“ The first lieutenant’s father! then why did you not 
bring him on board, sir?” J 

“ He is at present on deck, sir !” I replied. 

“ Then bring him down instantly—you did wrong not 
to bring him to the cabin at once!” 

I again went on deck; and soon returned, accompanied 
by my venerable companion. V T 

“ As the father of my first lieutenant, sir,” said Captain 
Morley; rising, and shaking the old man cordially by the 
hand, though evidently a good deal surprised at his rustic 
appearance; “ as the father of my first lieutenant, sir, you 
are welcome on board the Hesperus.” J 


THE MIDDY. 


139 

“Thank your honour—thank you kindly,” returned 
the old man. “ I’se coomed aboard, sir, to see my son ; 
but they tell me he be’s gone ashore e’en now.” 

“ He’ll return presently,” said Captain Morley; “ and 
I trust it will not be inconvenient for you to remain. Mr. 
Lascelles, desire my steward to bring some refreshments. 
You are old, my friend,” he continued, addressing the 
emigrant; “ you are old to have left your home for so 
f distant a land as this.” 

“ Why, as to age, sir, I’se not much ayond threescore. 
But I’ve been a hard-working man, Captain Moarley; and 
hard work, you know, whitens the hair and furrows the 
cheek, summut betimes.” 

“ Very true, my friend; but he who has worked hard 
in his strength, deserves to reap the fruit when he’s in¬ 
firm.” 

“ Ay, sir, so I thought once; and I had saved up an 
honest penny in my own small way, which would still 
have stood between me and want. But then came the 
bad times after the war, sir. My bit o’ land was over 
high rented, and the squire refused to let it down on me ; 
and so I lost everything, and, at the long and the last, fell 
into arrears. Everything I had was sold to pay my land¬ 
lord ; and my family and myself were turned adrift. I 
wouldn’t ha’ minded so much for myself, sir; for it mat¬ 
ters little where my grey head is laid; but it vexed me 
sore to think of the old woman and the girls.” 

“ It was cruel of your landlord to use you so harshly,” 
said the captain. 

“ Oh ! bless your heart, sir, it wasn’t his fault; it was 
all the land steward, sir; for the squire lives mostly in 
Lunnun. He’s a hard man the steward, .sir; and he took 
a grudge at me like, ever after I refused him one o’ my 
girls. No, no, sir! God forbid that I should blame my 
landlord ; he’s an honest man, Squire Hartree !” 

“ Squire Hartree !” said Captain Morley. 

“ Ay, sir, belike you knaw the squire?” 

“ He’s my near relation,” replied the captain ; “I could 
not have believed this of him !” 

“ Believe it on him ! no, no, sir; he would ha’ scorned 
to do the likes on’t; he’s as honest a gentleman, and as 











140 


THE MIDDY. 


kind, as any in the Riding. I tell you, sir, it was all Mr. 
Rakeall the steward.” 

“ And did you not think then of applying to the squire 
personally ?” 

“ Well, sir, I wrote him a bit o’ a line, and gave it to 
Mr. Rakeall to take to him; but belike it never reached 
him, sir; for I never got any answer.” 

“ I ought to have known of all this sooner,” said Cap¬ 
tain Morley. “ Your son never told me a word of it.” 

“Edward, sir! Lord bless your honour, how should 
he ? he did’nt know on’t himself. Belike he has enough 
to do with his own matters, sir. I haven’t seen him 
those six years; and, all that time, he has only written 
me once; and that was when he sent down his wife to 
live with me, before cooming out on this voyage, sir.” 

“ His wife !” said Captain Morley, apparently as much 
struck by this announcement as I had been. 

“ Ay, sir, belike you didn’t know he was married, sir?” 

“ I certainly did not,” replied the captain. “ But 
you’ve been ill used, my friend, and I would fain see you 
righted. I shall send a letter to my friend Hartree, by 
the very first ship that goes home.” 

“I fear, sir,” said the old man, “there will be but 
little use in that; I have left my home, and I shall never 
live to see it again t” 

A tear stood trembling in the eye of the emigrant; and 
I thought that one started unbidden into Morley ’3 too, as 
he gazed upon the old man, and thought of the hopeless¬ 
ness of his exile. 

There was something very touching in the sight. A 
man, far advanced towards the verge of life; most likely the 
victim of oppression and revenge; exiled from his native 
country, and travelling thousands of miles to lay his 
bones in a loreign land ! Young and thoughtless as I 
was, I was moved by the scene; and I was gazing ear* 
nestly on the old man’s silver locks, and placid, though 
mournful, countenance, when I was roused by a sudden 
sound of altercation from above. 

Go, Mr. Lascelles, said the captain, “ go and ascer¬ 
tain what is the cause of that noise on deck.” 

I did as I was desired ; and, on turning into the waist, 


THE MIDDY. 


141 


I found a strange woman, talking very loudly to the sailors, 
and pompously announcing herself as Mrs. Settler. The 
rotundity of her person, and the rubicundity of her bloated 
visage appeared to denote that she nourished herself with 
the brandy bottle ; and the volubility and loudness of her 
discourse, together with a slight stagger in her gait, 
showed that no very long period had elapsed since last 
she had solaced herself with its inspiring contents. 

“ Who is this woman?” I asked of one of the sailors 
who were standing round ; some of whom appeared to 
recognise her as an old acquaintance. 

“ She says, sir,” he answered, “ that she is Mrs. 
Settler; but, blow me, if I think she’s any other than 
Moll Heggety, she who kept the Blue Boar at Chatham.” 

I now thought I had an indistinct recollection of her 
features. I remembered that an Irish woman of that name 
had been mistress of a public-house in Chatham ; one of 
the most disorderly places in the town, and the common 
resort of idlers and low characters of every description. 
In this house one of the men belonging to the Hesperus 
had nearly lost his life in a riot; and Captain Morley had, 
in consequence, issued strict orders that in future the men 
should upon no account visit the Blue Boar. This regu¬ 
lation had not, of course, raised our commander much in 
the esteem of Moll; and I now recollected having seen 
her abuse him in the streets, for having, as she said, taken 
away her custom, and prevented her from turning an 
honest penny. A short time before we left Chatham, she 
had disappeared, and we had since heard nothing of her. 

“ No Moll Heggety me, if you please, you unmannerly 
spalpeen,” she cried to my informant, “I am Mistress 
Settler, yes, Mistress Lieutenant of his Majesty’s ship 
Hesperus ; and as good a gentlewoman as any of yez.” 

“ What’s the meaning of all this?” said Morley, who 
at this moment stepped upon deck. He started as his 
glance fell upon the woman; and he seemed excessively 
displeased. 

“ Your sarvant, sir !” said she, with a low curtsy, nearly 
losing her equilibrium, and almost tumbling head fore¬ 
most in the attempt. 

Get below, men!” cried the captain, in an angry 







142 


THE MIDDY. 


voice, addressing the sailors, “ down, every one of you !” 
Then, turning to the virago before him, whose real title 
seemed wavering at the time between the epithets of 
“ Mistress Settler” and “Moll Heggetyhe said, in a 
calm, but severe tone, “ Woman ! leave the ship instantly!” 

“Not till I have a word with Ned,” she answer¬ 
ed ; in a tone in which her natural impudence seemed 
strangely softened by the awe which the presence of the 
captain inspired. 

“ Leave the ship, 1 say !” he repeated, in a command¬ 
ing tone. 

“ Bless your honour,” said she ; “ let me stay to have 
one word with Mr. Settler.” 

“ Go instantly said the captain. “ Or must I have 
recourse to harsher means ? Down below there !—pass 
the word for the master-at-arms !” 

The old emigrant, whom the captain had left in the ca¬ 
bin, attracted, probably, by the noise of the altercation, at 
this moment made his appearance upon deck. No soon¬ 
er did our female guest recognise him in the distance, 
than she hailed him at the top of her lungs, “Old Settler, 
ahoy!” 

“Speak a word to the captain, will ye now,” she con¬ 
tinued; stepping up to him, and addressing him in her 
most winning tone ; “ speak a word to the captain, and 
see if he will let me bide a blink, to get a word with 
Ned.” 

“ Do you know this person, sir ?” said Captain Mor- 
Jey, somewhat sternly, to the old man. 

“Know her, your honour! Lord bless you, why 
shouldn’t I know her ! Why, she’s Edward’s wife !” 

“ Impossible !” said Captain Morley ; “ I know her to 
be a woman of the most abandoned character!” 

The old man’s cheek grew pale as ashes ; and his mild 
eye flashed with indignation. 

“ Captain Moarley,” he said—and there was a native 
dignity in his air and expression—“you are master here, 
and I am old and feeble ; but there was a time when ycu 
would not have dared to say this—ay, not even on the 
boards of your own ship ! Come, Mary,” he continued, 
laying hold of Moll’s brawny arm ; “ let us go ; this is no 
place for us.” 


t 


THE MIDDY. 


143 


“ Where are the side boys ?” cried a voice from a boat 
that, at this juncture, pulled up to the side of the ship ; 
and, the next moment, the first lieutenant jumped on to 
the deck. ; 

I shall never forget the look of bewilderment with which 
he contemplated the group before him. His face first be¬ 
came deadly pale, and then burning red. But not a sylla¬ 
ble escaped his lips; his utterance seemed choked by as¬ 
tonishment. 

His sudden appearance, indeed, equally surprised us all; 
and some seconds elapsed, before his aged father, drop¬ 
ping the woman’s arm, advanced and extended his hand 
towards him. 

“ Have years changed me so much, Edward,” he said, 
as his eyes filled with tears ; “ have years changed me so 
much that you have forgotten your old father?” 

The voice of the venerable man seemed to recal his son 
to consciousness. His embarrassed look disappeared, and 
gave place to his usual harsh expression; unsoftened by a 
single touch of joy, at thus, unexpectedly, meeting his 


parent. . 

“ Forgotten you, old man !” he said, in a tone which 
he wished to appear careless; “no! not forgotten you ; 
but I certainly am mightily puzzled to think what contra¬ 
ry breeze has drifted you to this quarter !” 

“ You are not, then, glad to see me!” said the old man; 
in a voice in which sorrow and disappointment were 

blended. , . 

“ Why, as to that, glad enough. But what the devil is 

it that has brought you just here , of all places in the 

world ?” * ; 

“ Misfortune, my son, has brought me here, said the 

old man with a sigh. “ God grant that you may never 
have occasion to obey so stern a task-mistress ! 

“ What! spent all your money ! lost your land ! Well! 
you know I always told you, you lived too extravagantly?” 

The tears which filled the old man’s eyes, streamed 
down his cheeks at these unfeeling words; and he trem¬ 
bled violently, as he said, “Edward! have I deserved 
this at your hands?” 

“Well, well,” said the lieutenant; “to be sure every 









144 


THE MIDDY. 


man has a right to do with his own as he thinks proper; 
but, if you look to me for assistance, I am sorry that it is 
not, at present, in my power to —-” 

“ I look for assistance from no man!” replied the fa¬ 
ther, stretching himself up to his full height, while a 
glance of independence and conscious uprightness gleam¬ 
ed across his features ; “ and, depend upon it, I shall never 
seek it from you!" 

“ Mr. Settler,” said Captain Morley, advancing and ad¬ 
dressing his lieutenant; “ perhaps another, and more pri¬ 
vate opportunity, will be better fitted for talking with your 
father over his affairs. In the meantime, a slight misun¬ 
derstanding has arisen between us with regard to this wo¬ 
man ; a misunderstanding which perhaps you will be kind 
enough to explain ?” 

“Ay!” said the old man ; “let us see if you will re¬ 
ceive your wife more cordially than you have received 
your father!” 

“My wife!” cried Settler; forcing a horselaugh, 
which he wished to pass as the expression of merriment; 
“ is it Moll Heggety you call my wife ? Ridiculous!” 

“I call this woman your wife, sir,” replied the old 
man with energy. “ As such you sent her to me ? and, 
as such, she has been these six months an inmate of my 
family, and the companion of your mother and sisters !” 

“ Do you know the character of this woman, sir ?” said 
Captain Morley to his lieutenant; while he struggled in 
vain to conceal the ineffable scorn which he felt. 

“ Yes, sir, I do !” replied Settler; with a look of forced 
composure. 

“ Is she your wife ?” 

“ No, indeed! thank Heaven I never had a wife; and, 
with a blessing, I never will,” replied the imperturbable 
lieutenant. 

“ I have it under his hand,” cried Moll ; “in the letter 
I took to his father.” 

“ Now, tell me, sir,” said Morley ; “ were you base 
enough to impose this woman, upon your confiding father, 
as your wife; were you base enough to send her to be an 
inmate of his family ?” 

“ You really take the matter too seriously, sir,” said 




THE MIDDY. 


145 


Settler ; endeavouring to deprecate the wrath of his supe¬ 
rior. “ I assure you it was only meant as a joke. The 
truth, if it must be told, is this : I owed an account at the 
Blue Boar, and I had nothing to pay it; so, as she was 
breaking up her establishment, I offered her a year’s lodg¬ 
ing to clear off old scores, and thus it was I gave her a 
letter to my father. But 1 merely meant it as a joke; I 
never thought he would have been fool enough to believe 
her.” 


r 

d 

>•' 

d, 

i 

i 


d 

1 ) 

y 


“ I only ask, sir, did you introduce her to your father’s 
family as your wife ? Answer me immediately !” 

“Why then, if you’re so very peremptory,” said Settler ; 
endeavouring to appear calm ,* “ suppose I answer that I 
did !” 

The old man had listened to the latter part of this dia¬ 
logue with the most engrossing attention. He hungupon 
his son’s replies with an eager earnestness which showed 
the interest he felt; and as the true nature of the woman’s 
character began to dawn on him, his face grew ghastly 
pale, and his whole frame shook with emotion. Still, he 
uttered not a word, but kept his gaze rivetted on his son’s 
countenance. But, when the last fearful admission was 
made, he could no longer restrain himself. Clasping his 
hands before his breast, in an attitude of supplication ; 
while the tears flowed down his furrowed cheeks, and his 
long white hair hung loosely over his shoulders, he exclaim¬ 
ed in a voice of agony, so truly heart-rending as well-nigh 
to move the bystanders to tears : 

“ Edward tiiou liest ! I trust in God thou liest!” 

A broad brutal laugh from the son, at which every one 
present shuddered, was all the reply he received. But it 
was enough. His hands fell upon his bosom; his eyes 
became fixed ; he tottered, reeled, and fell upon the deck 
in a state of insensibility. 

Captain Morley was at his side in an instant, and raised 
him in his arms. With one knee resting on the deck ; 
while his right hand supported the head of the faintingold 
man ; he bent over him, gazing with a look of unfeigned 
commiseration upon his ashy features. 

“ Out of my sight, sir!” he cried, at last in a voice of 
thunder, stretching out his left hand, with an impatient 

VOL. I.-13 







146 


THE MIDDY. 


gesture towards the lieutenant; “ out of my sight! I dare 
not trust myself to look upon you now !” Then, turning 
round to the master-at-arms, he continued ; “Dismiss that 
woman instantly from the ship; do you hear— instantly! 
Mr. Lascelles, send for the doctor—bid him make haste. 
God of heaven, what a sight is this !” 

The conscience-stricken lieutenant shrunk before the 
fiery eye of his indignant commander, and withdrew be¬ 
low. The old man was removed and laid in a hammock, 
where, by the assistance of the doctor, he was soon restor¬ 
ed to his senses. 

Captain Morley hung over his sick-bed with the anxiety 
of a son, and saw the remedies applied under his own in¬ 
spection. I was sent on deck to see if the woman was 
gone; and I just arrived in time to catch a glimpse of the 
boat that contained her, as it pulled off from the side of 
the ship. 






THE MIDDY. 


147 


S 


f CHAPTER XIV. 

ALGOA BAY. r ' 

A moody man he joined our crew ; 

Dismal and dark whom no one knew ! 

Rokeby. 

The extreme agitation into which the atrocious con¬ 
duct of his son had thrown the venerable emigrant, subsi¬ 
ded, after a few days, into a slow fever ; and Captain Mor- 
ley insisted that he should remain on board the Hesperus 
during the voyage to Algoa Bay. 

When he was sufficiently recovered to leave his berth, 
he won the esteem of every one, by the unsophisticated 
gentleness of his demeanour, and the straightforward hon¬ 
esty of his remarks. Still, a gloomy depression hung over 
his spirits ; he was often observed to sigh, and a silent tear 
was occasionally seen, trickling down his furrowed cheek. 

One day, he was reclining on a sofa in the after-cabin, 
for he was still extremely feeble ; when Captain Morley 
entered, accompanied by the first lieutenant. 

“ My good friend,” said the captain, going up and tak¬ 
ing the old man’s hand ; “ I have brought your son to see 
you. He is sincerely sorry for what has happened ; and 
he humbly craves your forgiveness.—Mr. Settler,” he 
continued, in a lower tone, turning round to the lieuten¬ 
ant ; “ kneel, sir !” 

The lieutenant dropped upon his knee at the word of 
command ; and, as the father gazed on him in that sup¬ 
pliant attitude, his eye lighted up, and a slight flush suf¬ 
fused his pallid cheek. But still he spoke not. 

“ Can you forgive him, sir ?” said Captain Morley. 

“ Can I forgive him !” repeated the old man ; raising 
his emaciated frame from the sofa. “ Oh! Captain Moar- 
ley ; if you but knew the happiness I at this moment feel! 
Rise, Edward,” he continued, his voice half choaked by 





148 


THE MIDDY. 


emotion ; “rise, my son ; and give me your hand. Let 
all be forgotten, as it is forgiven !” 

And forgiven it was from the old man’s inmost heart; 
but there was a never-slumbering monitor in the breast 
of the son, which denied him the bliss of oblivion ! He 
who honours not his parents is “ cursed with a curse ;” 
but doubly cursed is he who injures or insults them ! 
Contrition itself cannot expiate the crime of the guilty 
wretch. It were, truly, “ better for him, that he had never 
been born !” 

Our passage to Algoa Bay was propitious, though pro¬ 
tracted; and, during it, I had frequent opportunities of 
observing the character of our new shipmate, Richard 
Wolfe. 

I have already spoken of the personal appearance of 
this man. He was certainly remarkably handsome. His 
hair was raven-black, glossy and clustering ; his forehead 
high and commanding ; his eye quick and penetrating. 
Owing, indeed, to an habitual gloominess of disposition, 
there was usually a dark scowl about the eye, and a 
frowning contraction about the forehead, which marred the 
general expression of his countenance; but, when these 
passed away, as they would sometimes do, like clouds 
from a summer sky, all was left bright and sunny. It was 
on these occasions, when cheerfulness for a time held the 
ascendant, that I thought I could discover an expression 
of intelligence in his fine features ; as there was at all 
times an ease, I had almost said a grace, in his motions, 
which seemed to indicate an origin superior to the humble 
place he now occupied. 

But, for the most part, his look was saturnine and mo¬ 
rose ; and he would often pace about, apart from his com¬ 
rades ; his arms folded on his breast; his gaze rivetted 
on the deck; his brows knit, and his lips compressed. 
When he was in this moody humour, he seldom spoke- 
and, when he did, his voice was of that peculiarly gruff 
and dissonant description, which sounds, according to the 
sea phrase, as if the speaker had swallowed a top-chain. 

Something there seemed to be that preyed upon his 
spirits, and spread the “pale cast of thought” over his 
features; and I frequently amused myself, by fancying 


THE MIDDY. 


149 


some mysterious connection between the subject of his 
melancholy and the metal locket, which, as I have al¬ 
ready mentioned, he wore round his neck ; and which, 
drunk or sober, he preserved most religiously from the 
vulgar gaze. 

His chief besetting sin was an inordinate addiction to 
liquor ; and, for the purpose perhaps of drowning thought 
and getting rid of unpleasant reflections, he took every 
opportunity of flying to the use of ardent spirits, which he 
frequently drank to excess. 

Notwithstanding this failing, however, he was an ex¬ 
cellent seaman, and a trust-worthy man; and, when on 
duty, nothing could induce him to touch a drop of his 
favourite beverage. His mere word, in this respect, was 
as good as most men’s oaths; and, if he promised not to 
get drunk, he might be implicitly relied on. 

At Cape Town, about a week after he joined, we had 
rather an amusing instance of this latter peculiarity. 

One morning, he came to Strangways, who happened 
to be in command during the absence of the first lieu¬ 
tenant, and asked for leave to go on shore. 

“ No, Wolfe,” said Strangways ; “ I cannot allow you 
to go on shore. You know, the last time you got leave, 
you came on board drunk; and such conduct cannot be 
permitted.” 

“ I promise you s/r,” said Wolfe, “I won’t get drunk !” 

“ What do you want to do ashore?” inquired Strang¬ 
ways. 

“ I want to fight, sir ?” 

“To fight!” repeated Strangways; “a pretty errand 
truly. And with whom, pray, do you mean to fight?” 

“ With black Sambo, the prize-fighter, sir. He chal¬ 
lenged me to a match before I joined the ship ; and he 
has°been taunting me ever since, insinuating that I am 
afraid to stand to.my bargain. This is the morning on 
which we were to meet, sir; and, if I do not attend, they 
will call me coward.” 

<< It was extremely foolish in you to enter into any such 
engagement, sir,” replied Strangways. “ But, what you 
say is true; if you do not attend those Cape lown bullies 

13* 









150 


THE MIDDY. 


may impute it to cowardice. You promise me you won’t 
get drunk V ’ 

“ 1 promise, sir !” 

**' Then you may go.” 

Wolfe, accordingly, went on shore; and, after an ab¬ 
sence of about an hour and half, he returned, without hav¬ 
ing tasted a drop of liquor. 

As soon as he got on deck, he went to Strangways, and 
reported himself. 

“ I am come on board, sir ; sober !” 

“Well,” replied Strangways; “I am glad you have 
kept your word. Did you fight the match?” 

“ I did, sir.” 

“ W as it a long one ?” 

“Fifty minutes, sir; by the watch.” 

“ Who conquered?” 

“ I did, sir !” 

“ Did you punish your opponent severely ?” 

“ Why, sir, I beat him ; and that’s just saying enough.” 

“ Right! You may retire, sir.” 

“I hope, sir, you will have no objections to let me go 
ashore again,” said Wolfe; still lingering in the neigh¬ 
bourhood of the lieutenant. 

“What! at present ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Why, what do you want to do ashore now ?” 

Get drunk, sir ! replied Wolfe, with the gravest 
possible expression of countenance ; while Strangways 
burst out into an immoderate fit of laughter. 

“May I go, sir?” continued Wolfe ; when he thought 
the lieutenant had had sufficient time to indulge his mer¬ 
riment. 


(( 


It is contrary to all rule 


j u <U1 iU *c, sir, saiu otrangwa\ 
scarcely able to articulate for laughter; “but, since y 

have kept your promise so faithfully, I will permit y 
ior this once to go.” J 

I hank you, sir,” said Wolfe; with the same ii 
moveable gravity of countenance; and, in a few minute 
he was seen pulling off, in one of the Malay boats tb 
tittended the ship with fruit. J ;• 

lie kept his word as faithfully on this as op the form 









THE MIDDY. 151 

occasion ; and, towards evening, he was carried on board, 
in a state of the “most blissful oblivion.” 

Among his messmates, he was at first considered un¬ 
social and peevish; but they soon began to get acquaint¬ 
ed with his ways, and he became a general favourite.— 
Sometimes, he would forget his melancholy ; and, mixing 
in their society, he would amuse them with an infinitude 
of “yarns,” illustrative of his various adventures. On 
these occasions, his countenance was usually lighted up 
by a bland expressive smile ; and it was then that lie 
looked so peculiarly engaging. His graceful figure, lean¬ 
ing on a gun in the forecastle ; his arms folded across his 
breast; his look all openness and good-humour ; his voice 
soft, and even musical;—he would thus often entrance 
his wondering audience. But if, in the course of his nar¬ 
rative, he chanced to be called by an officer, the spell was 
in an instant broken; the soft smile disappeared; his 
brows became knit; the dark scowl returned ; and, in¬ 
stantly breaking off his story, he growled gruffly forth 
from the very bottom of his chest, the responsive mono* 
i syllable, “ Sir J” 

After such an interruption, it was in vain that his com¬ 
rades endeavoured to prevail upon him to resume his di3» 
course ; his communicative disposition for that day was 
at an end. 

Altogether, there was something so unusual about the 
demeanour of this man, that I often wished to learn some- 
; thing of his history ; but all my endeavours to probe him 
on this point were unavailing. 

One morning, when we were rapidly approaching our 
destination, before a fine steady breeze, I observed him in 
the waist, leaning over the bulwark, and gazing upon the 
water beneath. In this position he remained for a con¬ 
siderable time, perfectly motionless ; and apparently wrapt 
in meditation. At last, I went up to him, and addressed 
him. 

“ What do you see in the water, Wolfe,” said I, “that 
you gaze so intently upon it?” 

“ Nothing, sir !” he replied, starting suddenly from 
his stooping posture, at the sound of my voice. 

«* There’s q fine rattling breeze,” I observed, «.* for 








152 


THE MIDDY. 


carrying us forward. Did you ever see a vessel slip thro j 

the water like the Hesperus ?” 

“She’s a good sailing craft, sir; and I have seen few 

that could eat the wind out of her.” 

“Few!” said I; “ I never heard of one. She’s quite 

famous for her sailing.” I 

“ May be, sir; but I once knew a vessel that would 
have walked away from her, hand over hand.” 

“ And what ship was that pray ?” I inquired ; glad to 
find him in so communicative a disposition, 

“ The Apollyon, sir.” 

“The Apollyon!” said I; “why you might as well 
have called her the Devil at once ! I never before heard 
of such a ship. She’s surely not in our service ?” 

“ Very like, sir—very like !” he replied, with rather a 
sly look. 

“ Is she an honest craft?” 

“Honest, sir! I don’t exactly know what you may 
please to call honest; but, I recollect a saying, that an 
old messmate of mine, on board the L’Ourse, used to ap¬ 
ply jokingly to his mistress—*- 

“ Une aussi belle taille que la sienne, 

N’etait pas faite 
Pour etre honnete !” 

(i The L’Ourse!” said I. ” Have you then served on 
board a Frenchman ?” 

“ May be I have, sir, and may be I have not,” he replied 
with his usual gruff tone. “ At present, I serve on board 
the Hesperus, and must attend to my duty saying which 
he turned abruptly away, and left me. 

And so it was with all my attempts to discover anything 
of this man’s history. Whenever I put a question that 
might have led to a disclosure of any passage in his pre? 
vious life, he abruptly broke off the conversation. 

But, to proceed with my narrative. 

Arrived at Algoa, our chief care was the safe landing 
of the emigrants; whose ultimate destination was Gra* 
ham’s Town. As considerable delay was likely to occur 
in procuring, or preparing, wagons and other conveyances, 
to forward them and their baggage into the interior, it 
was necessary to provide for their accommodation* in the 






THE MIDDY. 




153 


mean time, on shore. Captain Morley having selected, 
i for this purpose, a beautiful green plain not far from the 
beach, all the tents* and spare canvass we could muster 
, were put in requisition ; and, under the active manage¬ 
ment of the crew, a little canvass village speedily reared 
j itself on the lone coast. Here the emigrants were com¬ 
fortably lodged, each according to his rank and preten¬ 
sions; and everything that could in any way contribute to 
the convenience of our temporary establishment, was 

readily supplied by the governor, Sir R-n D-n ; to 

whose kindness and attention, on this occasion, we were 
much indebted. 

With fresh provisions of every description, and with 
fruit, wine, spirits, and so forth, we were abundantly sup¬ 
plied. The Dutch boors, located in the neigbourhood, 
no sooner heard of our arrival, than they came down in 
numbers, and pitched their tents beside our own ; bring¬ 
ing with them ample stores of all sorts of necessaries, 
which they disposed of at very moderate rates. The 
habitations of these people added considerably to the ex¬ 
tent and appearance of our temporary settlement; and be¬ 
fore many weeks had elapsed, Canvass Town—for so we 
designated this assemblage of tents—-presented a scene of 
considerable bustle and activity. 

The tents appropriated to the use of the higher class of 
emigrants, stood a little detached from the rest; and among 
them, a large marque, occupied by the captain and such 
of the officers as formed the shore party, was conspicuous. 
Sands, who was the acknowledged manager of this estab¬ 
lishment, and who kept the stores, had exerted his art in 
producing a most grotesque resemblance of a wild boar, 
painted in blue, which he caused to be suspended over 
the doorway; and from this elegant specimen of the lim¬ 
ner’s art, the tent derived the distinctive appellation of 
the Blue Boar. 

It was a spacious, roomy erection, and contained, 
among other accommodations, a very handsome saloon. 
Here, Captain Morley daily entertained at dinner, a party 


* A number of tents had been forwarded in a colonial vessel from 
Cape Town on purpose. 









154 


THE MIDDY. 


of the better class of emigrants; among whom were 
several half-pay British officers, with their wives and 
families. These little festivities our guests enjoyed with 
the highest relish ; and they appeared to forget, in the 
company of the kind-hearted commander and his merry 
officers, that they were bound on the melancholy errand 
of voluntary expatriation. 

Every one seemed determined to be pleased and happy; 
and, when such is the case, little exertion is necessary to 
produce good-humour and harmony. According to the 
good old English custom, when dinner was concluded, 
the wine-flask circulated freely; the veteran officers, 
“ fought all their battles o’er again the farmers talked 
of stock and crops, and the capabilities of the country ; 
and we mariners performed the part of listeners or narra¬ 
tors, as circumstances required. 

Nor were our parties unenlivened by female society. 
The festive board at the Blue Boar was graced by some 
of the loveliest and most accomplished of the sex; and 
the sweet sound of the guitar, touched by their delicate fin¬ 
gers, and accompanied by the still sweeter melody of their 
own soft voices, was not the least attractive part of our 
entertainment. Whenever the conversation happened to 
flag, Captain Morley was in the habit of calling on one 
or other of his fair guests for a display of her musical at¬ 
tainments ; a request which was always cheerfully com¬ 
plied with ; and, in return for the favour, the captain him¬ 
self, or some one of his officers or guests, was always 
ready with a song. 

Thus the song went round, occupying the intervals of 
cheerful conversation ; joy and satisfaction beamed on 
every countenance ; and no costly apartments, supplied 
with every elegance and luxury, could ever boast of con¬ 
taining guests more truly happy, than were the humble 
party assembled in the Blue Boar of Canvass Town, on 
the desolate shores of inhospitable Africa. 

On our vinous libations, the presence of the ladies op¬ 
erated as a wholesome check ; and, accordingly, when 
just as much wine had been consumed, as served to pro¬ 
pitiate the smiles of Bacchus, the band was ordered to 
attend ; and we sallied forth, each accompanied by the 





TtiE MIDDY. 


155 

partner of his Choice, to the bright green sward, that or¬ 
namented the beach on the outskirts of our encampment. 
There, on that lone coast, which had never before been 
enlivened by any sound more melodious than the monoto¬ 
nous tootting of the Hottentot’s tom-tom ; the hills re¬ 
echoed to the swelling notes of the horn, the timbrel, and 
the flute ; and we sailed round in the giddy waltz, to the 
soft sound of Rossini’s voluptuous music, or beat the turf 
in the lively reel, to the spirit-stirring measure of the in¬ 
imitable Gow ; while the gorgeous tropic moon rode high 
in the heavens, and flooded, with her mellow light, the 
wild Salvator-landscape around us. And when, at last, 
by Captain Morley’s order, the music ceased, and our 
sports for the evening were concluded, each merry dancer 
sought his humble tent, as happy as a potentate. So true 
is the remark of the poet; that, 

Fixed to no place is happiness sincere— 

’Tis nowhere to be found, or everywhere ! 

In this manner we spent the evenings at Canvass Town. 
Nor were our forenoons without their appropriate amuse¬ 
ments. Pic-nic parties; pleasure excursions into the 
surrounding country ; boating expeditions ; fishing and 
shooting matches, afforded ample scope for the varied 
tastes of each individual. 

For my own part, being from my youth an admirer of 
the fair sex, I generally joined in those amusements of 
which the ladies were partakers ; and I shall never forget, 
as I am sure few of my companions can have forgotten, 
the merry days we often spent in our pleasure excursions; 
the boisterous peals of laughter that succeeded every at¬ 
tempt at a joke, and the good-humoured tricks that we 
mutually played off on each other; all enlivened, it may 
be, among the junior members of the company, by a little 
innocent flirtation. 

Captain Morley usually accompanied us on these de¬ 
lightful trips ; and instead, as might be supposed, of en¬ 
acting the dignified commander, he entered with full spirit 
into all our absurdities, and was himself the chief pro¬ 
moter of our sport. Indeed, so much was his society 
coveted on these occasions, that there was usually a com- 








THE MIDDY. 


156 

petition every morning among the various parties, as to 
which was to “ have the captain and many a race was 1 
run to the Blue Boar, by the different emissaries commis¬ 
sioned to secure him. i 

Wherever Captain Morley was, there old Mr. Settler 
was sure to be ; he seemed to hang on the gallant com- 
mander, as on a being of some superior world. The good 
old man was now completely recovered from his illness; j 
and, being reconciled to his son, and freed, besides, from 
the presence of the obnoxious Moll; who, when dis- I 
missed from on board the Hesperus, had prudently taken j 
up her residence in Simon’s Town ; his natural cheerful¬ 
ness returned, and he looked quite hale and hearty. He, 
too, was considered, in his way, an acquisition to our 
parties ; he was so good-humoured, obliging, and inoffen¬ 
sive. The part he usually performed was that of a Nes¬ 
tor to the juniors ; warning them not to go too near the 
edge of the river, in case the ladies should slip in; or too 
far into the wood, in case they should not be able to find 
their way out again. 

The only drawback he had, was his huge double-cased 
silver hunting-watch, with which he marked most accu¬ 
rately the lapse of time ; and often, when we thought our 
day was not half done, he would draw out the odious ma¬ 
chine, and, going up to Captain Morley, he would say, 
with his peculiarly grave expression of countenance— 

“ Captain Moarley, I’se a-thinking that it be’s now get¬ 
ting summut near the dinner-hour !” 

“Very well, Mr. Settler,” the captain would reply with 
a smile ; “ I suppose we must beat a retreat; though, to 
own the truth, time has passed so pleasantly, that I fancied 
we had still a couple of hours before us.” 

But where is the society, however peaceful and harmo¬ 
nious, into which a little discord will not at times intrude! 

Among the other emigrants, was a Major-, whose 

daughter, Emily, was certainly the prettiest girl in Can¬ 
vass Town. Just at the age, when the undefined form of 
the girl passes into the graceful proportions of the -wo¬ 
man ; while yet the innocent simplicity, and enchanting 
naivete of girlhood beams in the countenance, and while 
the lively manners are still free from that conscious re- 







THE MIDDY. 


157 


straint, with which they are often embarrassed at a more 
advanced period of life ; marble must have been the heart 
of the man, who could gaze upon Emily with indiffer¬ 
ence. 

To say that her features were regularly handsome, 
would, perhaps, be to say too much ; but there was a soft 
pensive expression about her large blue eye, and a health¬ 
ful bloom upon her slightly dimpled cheek, which fully 
entitled her to the epithet beautiful. Indeed, I have often 
thought, that nothing earthly could come nearer to per¬ 
fection, when, in the high flow of youthful spirits, her 
countenance flushed with exercise, she would sometimes 
drop my arm, and, challenging me to a race, bound off 
with an elasticity of step, and a gracefulness of motion, 
that might have excited the envy of Camilla herself. 
And then, the peals of laughter with which she yielded 
up the victory, when I overtook her in her career \ or the 
forced gravity she would assume, as, suddenly stoppings 
she would endeavour to excuse her levity, by owning 
“ that it was very thoughtless, and that she had forgotten 
she was no longer a childimparted to her features an 
expression of peculiar interest. 

Nearly of the same age, with tempers and tastes very 
much allied, was it strange that we frequently sought each 
other’s society ; or even that, after the lapse of a few 
weeks, our intimacy grew up into something like a mu¬ 
tual attachment! Not that we were sensible of any feel¬ 
ing that could be strictly termed love; for I believe nei¬ 
ther of us had a very defined notion of the nature of the 
bond that connected us ; but certain it is, that I preferred 
Emily’s society to that of the other ladies, and that Emily 
invariably accepted my arm in preference to that of any 
other youth in Canvass Town. 

But, though I thus showed that I had an eye for beauty, 
the rest of my comrades were not altogether blind ; and I 
had my rivals who coveted the sweet looks of Emily. 

Mr. Granger, our marine officer, in particular, whom I 
have already described as a remarkably spruce, gentle¬ 
manly little fellow, was deeply smitten with the young 
lady’s charms, from the moment he saw her; and he used 
to display all his accomplishments to ingratiate himself in 

VOL. i.— 14 






THE MIDDY'. 


158 


her favour. But his blandishments were entirely thrown 
away ; he was only listened to when I was not present; 
his assistance, in our pleasure excursions, was only ac¬ 
cepted, when mine was not at hand. 

This naturally gave rise to a feeling of jealousy on his 1 
part; and, although there was nothing in my conduct, of 
which he could justly complain, it was evident that he 
bore me no good will," for thus stepping between him and 
the object of his affections. 

Another circumstance added not a little to his annoy¬ 
ance. The major, Emily’s father, evidently preferred my 
society to that of Granger. He had frequently asked me 
to breakfast, and spend the morning in his tent; an invi¬ 
tation which had never been extended to my rival; and, 
although this mark of attention was bestowed on me, 
merely because I was a patient listener to the details of 
the veteran’s military campaigns, and on account too, 
perhaps, of my aristocratic connection with the aimy; 
Granger at once attributed it to the circumstance of his 
favouring my advances to his daughter. 

One day, at a pic-nic, Emily, Granger, myself, and one 
or two more of the party, had seated ourselves on a beau¬ 
tiful green bank that overhung the small river. Nature, 
every where luxuriant in that climate, spread the bounties 
of vegetation in all directions around us. Tall umbra¬ 
geous trees, richly-tinted heaths, long waving grass, and 
moss-grown rocks, adorned the banks on either side; 
while the surface of the sluggish-running stream, at our 
feet, was teeming with a variety of beautiful aquatic plants. 
Amongst these, in the very centre of a deep black pool, 
a group of magnificent water-lilies reared their stately 
heads ; their large white flowers thrown into beautiful re¬ 
lief against the dark background of the water. 

“ How splendid these lilies are !” said Emily ; “ it is 
quite tantalizing to see them growing so far beyond our 
reach !” 

“ There are some farther down the river,” said Gran¬ 
ger; “ where they are more easily got at. If you would 
like it, I dare say I could procure you some.” 

“ Oh, no ! Mr. Granger ; pray don’t trouble yourself. 
Those down the river are not worth having; they are not 
nearly so beautiful.” 





THE MIDDY. 


159 


u These are, certainly, very fine,” said I. 

“ What a lovely wreath they would make, entwined 
with heaths and evergreens!” said Emily. 

To me, this observation was quite intelligible. Emily 
desired to have the lilies; and her wish must, at all haz* 
ards, be gratified. 

Accordingly, as soon as the company had commenced 
their homeward route, 1 stole away from the rest; returned 
to the spot; stripped ; plunged into the water, and secured 
the prize. Exerting all my speed, I reached Canvass 
Town not much later than my companions ; and, going 
straight to the major’s tent, I presented my bouquet to 
Emily. At dinner, she appeared with the flowers, woven 
in a wreath, among her hair. 

This exploit of gallantry threw poor Granger completely 
into the shade ; and, after holding a council with Sands, 
who was his confidant in this love affair, it was gravely 
determined between them that I was un de trop ; and that 
the sooner I was removed from the shore party, and sent 
to do duty on board, the better. The only question was, 
how to get rid of me ; and the management of this Sands 
took upon himself. 

Having occasion to go on board for a short time, a few 
days afterwards, the jolly purser came up to me; and, 
putting a sealed note into my hand, requested me to de¬ 
liver it to Wetherall. It was formally addressed, “ To 
the commanding officer of H. M. ship Hesperus and 
I promised to take all due care of it. 

Accordingly, as soon as I got on board, I delivered it to 
Wetherall, who opened it in my presence ; and, having 
read it, burst out into an immoderate fit of laughter. 

** What’s the matter, sir ?” said I. 

“ Some joke between Sands and you, I suppose,” said 
Wetherall; “ but I’ll be d—d if I understand it!” 

He then put the note into my hand; and, to my great 
astonishment, I read as follows : 


u Dear Dick, 

“ Do not let Lascelles come on shore 
further from me ; and oblige yours, 


till you hear 
“ Saxos.” 



160 


THE MIDDY. 


“ I don’t understand the meaning of it any more than 
yourself, sir,” said I. “ I hope you do not mean to act 
upon it, sir?” 

“Act upon it!” said Wetherall. “No, no! I hope, 
youngster, I know my duty better. I haven’t been four 
and thirty years in the service, without understanding that 
such an order is rather out of the purser’s line. But I 
suppose, of course, it’s only meant as a joke ; so you had 
better say nothing about it to the captain.” 

Great was the surprise of the worthy purser, when I 
made my appearance in the afternoon at the Blue Boar, 
and, taking him aside, told him all that had passed. 

“ I am willing to look upon it as a joke, Mr. Sands,” 
said I ; but it certainly was not a very fair one.” 

“ Well, well,” said Sands ; “ I know you’re not the lad 
to take a bit of a trick amiss. Is it forgiven?” 

“ To be sure it is,” said I; “ only let all be above board 
next time.” 

“ Take my word for that!” said Sands ; and, hence¬ 
forth, the honest purser declined all co-operation with my 
rival; complying with the old sea maxim of “ Every man 
to his station , and the cook to the fore-sheet /” 


the middy, 


lfii. 


CHAPTER XV. 

BLACK TOM. 

r 

if thou wilt go with me to the alehouse, so ; if not thou art an He¬ 
brew, a Jew, and not worthy the name of a Christian. 

Two Gejttxemen of Yehona. 

While we were thus enjoying ourselves ashore, the 
affairs of the Hesperus were not altogether neglected. 
Every morning, Captain Morley went on board, to see 
that things were in good order, and that the men were 
conducting themselves properly. 

Among the rest of the crew, who were left for ship 
duty, was a topman, named Black Tom. He was a tall 
athletic negro; who, at a very early period of life, had 
been taken from the Gold Coast of Africa, stowed, with 
a number of others, into the hold of a slaver, carried to 
the West Indies, and sold to a sugar planter of St. Domin¬ 
go. He had not, however, been long in the service of his 
new master, when an English navy captain who happened 
to be on a visit at the plantation, took a fancy for him, 
purchased him, gave him his freedom, and carried him on 
board his ship, as a cabin boy. 

From this period, Tom’s life had been devoted to the 
sea. He had served on board a great variety of ships, 
and was, at last, entered on the books of the Hesperus. 
He was an excellent seaman, completely up to his duty, 
clever, active, and a very dare-devil for courage. There 
was a mixture of shrewdness and simplicity in his dispo¬ 
sition, which formed an inexhaustible fund of amusement 
to his comrades; and, though his temper was fiery and 
passionate when roused, such was his extreme good-nature, 
that, of all the jokes that were passed off on him, he 
seldom took any amiss; nor did he seem, indeed, to have 
the slightest notion, that he himself was the butt at whom 
they were directed. 


14 * 





162 


THE MIDDY. 


Among his messmates, Tom was a great favourite ; and, 
although they all considered him as legitimate game 
among themselves, they would not have seen him injured 
by any third party. His chief failing was his great 
addiction to grog; but liquor, instead of exciting, seemed 
rather to lull his fiery passions. When fairly intoxicated, 
he would fall from his seat like a lump of inanimate flesh ; 
his senses so completely drowned, that one might almost 
have stretched him on the rack, or fired a cannon at his 
ear, without producing any signs of consciousness. When 
he awoke from his death-like sleep, he was generally 
perfectly recovered ; but of all that had occurred to him du¬ 
ring his debauch, not a trace remained upon his memory. 

One morning, soon after Captain Morley had gone on 
board on his daily visit, Black Tom and Richard Wolfe, 
the latter of whom had recently been promoted to the 
dignity of boatswain’s-mate, came to Wetherall, and 
asked for leave to go on shore ; for the purpose, they said, 
of witnessing a wrestling match, and other gymnastic 
games, that were to take place that forenoon among the 
new colonists. As Captain Morley never refused his 
men any reasonable indulgence, their request was at once 
granted; and they set off together in high glee. 

The day was bright and breezy; the wrestling ground 
well selected ; and the players good. Almost all Canvass 
Town had turned out to see the sport; and Tom and 
Wolfe took their places among the multitude. 

Six wrestlers entered the ring, and they were pitted 
against each other, three to three ; the one party distin¬ 
guished by a black ribbon tied round the wrist, the other 
by a red. When stripped, the proportions which these 
men exhibited, gave promise of excellent sport; they were 
all remarkably strong and muscular, Two of the red rib¬ 
bons in particular, were perfectly colossal; and, the great 
breadth of chest, the Herculean fulness of neck, the 
solidity of limb, and massiveness of arm which they dis¬ 
played, were palpable evidences of their prodigious 
strength. 

As was anticipated, these two men speedily threw their 
antagonists; and, the game of the third couple being 
declared drawn, they remained accordingly the victors of 


THE MIDDY. 


163 

the field. The air resounded with the plaudits of the 
multitude; and the two conquerors bore their honours 
vauntingly enough. 

One of them, in particular, when the stakes he had won 
were put into his hand, tossed up into the air the bag 
which contained the money, and declared he would give 
it to any one present, who would stake half the sum, and 
give him one fall for two. Nobody, however, was daring 
enough to answer the challenge; and the wrestler kept 
chucking up his purse, as if to tempt some one to the 
match. 

“I say, Tom,” said Wolfe to his neighbour, “I’ve a 
great mind to try him.” 

“ Him dam strong,” replied Tom, with a monitory 
shake of the head. 

“ Devil take his strength ! I’ve given a fall to a bigger 
man than he.” 

“ Him purse dam heavy,” continued Tom. 

“ Ay, that’s just the difficulty ; but I’ll stake all the 
money I have about me, and let him stake equal.” 

“Dare no one come to the scratch!” cried the tall 
wrestler, once more chucking up his purse. 

“ I accept the challenge!” cried Wolfe; jumping into 
the ring. 

His antagonist eyed him attentively for a moment, then, 
throwing his purse upon the ground, “stake your money,” 
he said, “ there are twenty dollars!” 

“ I have only five dollars,” said Wolfe ; “but I’ll stake 
I them against five of yours, and play you fall for fall.” 

“A done bargain!” cried the wrestler, taking up his 
money from the ground, and counting five dollars into the 
hands of the stake-holder. Wolfe followed his example, 
and paid over the stipulated sum. 

The match was long and well-contested ; but fortune at 
last declared in favour of our boatswain’s-mate. He gave 
his opponent five falls for four, and carried off the stakes 
amid the applauding shouts of the spectators. 

The ground was now cleared for a race, which was to 
be run for an open sweepstakes of three dollars. Wolfe 
entered himself amongst the rest; and he showed that 
his agility was equal to his strength, by distancing all his 



164 


THE MIDDT. 


competitors, and bearing off the prize ; which amounted 
to thirty dollars. 

Elated with success, and with the prospect of growing 
rich in so pleasant a way, the doughty boatswain’s-mate 
now entered himself for the next sweepstakes ; which 
were for the high leap. This game was inimitably con¬ 
tested ; but one by one, the competitors gave in; and the 
prize at last lay between Wolfe, and one of the new col¬ 
onists; a limber-looking young Englishman. 

The bar stood at five feet two; and both the competi¬ 
tors cleared it cleverly. 

“ Put it up to five feet four!” cried Wolfe. The bar 
was accordingly raised ; and again they both topped it in 
beautiful style. 

“ Make it five, six!” cried the young Englishman ; and, 
when the bar had been moved to the required notch, he 
threw himself over it, apparently with very little effort. 

Wolfe, however, in making his spring, slipped upon 
the turf; struck the bar with his foot; and sent it spinning 
before him into the air. His antagonist was declared 
conqueror, and carried off the prize. 

“ You leap well, friend,” said Wolfe ; when he saw the 
money which he had reckoned'upon as his own, paid over 
to the other ; “ but, had I not slipped, you would not have 
won so easily. Have you any objection to try again ?” 

“None!” replied his antagonist. “What do you 
stake ?” 

“ Thirty dollars!” said Wolfe. 

“ Done !” replied the other ; and they each deposited 
the stipulated sum with the stake-holder. 

This second match naturally excited great interest. 
Both competitors were evidently first-rate leapers ; and 
for men in their rank, the stake was an important one. 

The bar was placed at five feet two ; and it was raised 
inch by inch, both clearing it each time; till it stood at 
five feet nine. The previous height was evidently just 
about as much as either could accomplish ; and it was 
thought that this last move wouldjprove decisive. 

The young Englishman came first; and, having atten¬ 
tively surveyed his ground and measured his distance, he 
took his start warily, left the turf with a clean spring, and 
cleared the bar within a hair’s breadth. 


THE MIDDY. 


165 

Wolfe, conscious that he had no common antagonist 
to deal with, felt that it would now be necessary to exert 
3 himself to the utmost. He considered his ground care- 
» fully ; took in his distance with a practised eye; ad- 
1 vanced, with a light springy step, and left the turf clev- 

• erly. But the height was more than he was equal to ; 

3 he struck the bar with the heel of his right foot; and it 

fell broken to the ground. 

“Devil take my awkwardness!” he growled, as he 

• leisurely resumed his jacket; and without taking farther 
notice of ony one, he left the ground, accompanied by 
Black Tom. 

“ Him leap dam well !” said Tom ; after they were 
clear of the crowd. 

“ All chance!” growled Wolfe. “ But he might have 
leaped as high as the steeple of Strasburg for me, if he 
had not carried off my thirty dollars !” 

“ Ah ! him nebber care,” replied Tom. “ Easy come, 
easy go !” 

“ Very well for you to speak, you black-faced nigger ! 
How would you like to lose thirty dollars yourself?” 

“ Him nebber hab thirty dollar to lose !” replied Tom, 
in a most pitiable tone of voice. 

“ Poor devil!” said Wolfe, “ I believe you. But never 
mind, Tom,” he continued, “ never mind my lad ! I've 
still four shiners left, and we’ll drink them, Tom ; d—n 
me, we’ll drink them, my boy !” 

To this grateful proposition, Tom cordially assented; 
and they adjourned together to a small tent in the outskirts 
of the encampment, where a Dutchman, named, according 
to his sign board, Adrien Hendrick Van Struyk, enter¬ 
tained all comers for their money, at the sign of the Angel. 

Liquor was soon produced, and the two messmates 
commenced their potations in earnest, without troubling 
themselves much with conversation; Wolfe being cha¬ 
grined and gloomy at having lost his money ; and Tom 
being no great talker, when the presence of the spirit-flask 
afforded him a more agreeable occupation for his colloquial 
organs. 

With a little round table between them, they sat op¬ 
posite to each other, in the most friendly and harmonious 
attitude ; emptying glass after glass, with exemplary dili- 





1G6 


THE MIDDY. 


gence ; till, towards evening, the liqour, which was that 
horrible compound denominated Cape brandy, began sen¬ 
sibly to operate upon them. 

Tom, in particular, was evidently going very fast. His 
eyes began to roll ominously in their sockets; the mus¬ 
cles of the under part of his face became relaxed ; the 
corners of his huge mouth hung downwards ; and, at last, 
he fairly fell from the bench on which he was sitting, in a 
state of mortal intoxication. 

Wolfe, however, was not so easily subdued. He still 
kept his upright position; and threw, from time to time, 
towards his prostrate companion, a look of the most sover¬ 
eign contempt. 

“ D—n him for a drunken lubber!” he growled forth ; 
u he has no more head than a tallow candle. But, after 
all, what can one expect of a nigger ! Mynheer,” he 
continued, calling to the host; bring me another stoup, 
will ye; and, look ye, put a little dry straw beneath that 
poor fellow’s head, to keep him from the cold ground.” 

The straw and liquor were brought as desired ; and 
Wolfe commenced his potations systematically, to while 
away the time till his comrade awoke. 

He had not been long in this situation, when a new 
customer entered the booth, in the shape of a Cape-Dutch 
boor ; a stout, roguish-looking fellow, with a broad-brim¬ 
med hat on his head, a long tobacco-pipe in his mouth, 
and a soiled blue linen “ kittel” covering his person, as 
low as the knee. 

“ Dis von fine evening, Mynheer!” he said to Wolfe; 
as the landlord placed a pot of beer for him upon the table. 

Wolfe, who had been making rapid progress with his 
additional stoup, and did not find his tongue altogether 
obedient, replied by a lurch of the head, intended for a nod; 
to which he added an extremely inarticulate “ Very /” r 

“ Ha ! whom we hab here ?” continued the boor ; ob¬ 
serving poor Tom,.with his straw pillow, on the floor. 

“Drunk! — lubber!” muttered Wolfe; turning his 
flushed, sleepy eyes, in the direction of his prostrate 
comrade. 

“ Dronk! ya, very right. But he is von dam strong 
nigger, do , for all dat!” and he very leisurely proceeded 


THE MIDDY. 


167 

to finger the gigantic limbs of the unfortunate Tom ; much 
in the same manner as a grazier fingers the ox he is about 
to purchase. 

He now drew in a bench, and set himself down opposite 
to Wolfe ; whom every fresh pull at the can was bringing 
nearer and nearer to a state of utter unconsciousness. 
Being totally incapable of comprehending the tenor of the 
various questions and remarks addressed to him by the 
boor, he either left them unanswered, or responded at 
random with a gruff drawling “ Very.” 

The wily Mynheer, seeing him in this state, thought it 
a good opportunity for driving a cheap bargain, for the 
transfer of the carcase of the unlucky Tom ; who, being 
young and strong, he well knew,- would bring, at least, 
three hundred dollars in the market. He accordingly 
broached the subject, by asking Wolfe, what he considered 
the negro’s value. 

“How inosh you tink dat nigger vorth, eh?” said he; 
“ fifty thaler for him is nit feil, eh ? fifty dallar very goot 
price, you tink ? You tink so, eh ?” he continued, pres¬ 
sing the unconscious Wolfe for an answer. 

Wolfe, who did not understand a word that he said, 
responded as usual—“ Very." 

“Denn ven you sell him, I vill gib you fifty thaler ; you 
no gat so mosh anoder time. Vill you sell him, eh ? Vat 
for you no speak ? Ven you tink it goot price you vill 
sell him, eh ? Vill you no antwort me? You tink fifty 
thaler very goot price, eh ?” 

Thus pressed ; Wolfe once more responded, “ Very” 

“ Denn I vill him kaupen : you verstah ? 1 vill buy 

him—I hab das gelt here vid me !” and he pulled a huge 
leathern bag from his pouch, and counted out fifty dollars 
upon the table. 

Wolfe, who, half-sleeping, half-waking, was seated with 
his side towards the Dutchman; his eyes shut, and his 
head resting on his hand ; had never looked up during 
this dialogue; and, when the money was spread out on 
the table, the boor found it necessary to draw his attention 
to it, by shaking him roughly by the shoulder. 

“ Vill you no look up, eh ? Here is dat gelt for you ; 
vill you no look up ?” 






THE MIDDY. 


168 

Thus roused, Wolfe raised his head, and cast his dim 
heavy eyes, first on the glittering silver coins, and then on 
his companion ; as if he wanted some explanation of what 
he saw. 

“ Da is das gelt,” said the boor; “ dat is de fifty dollar 
—I hab zahlt it—all very right! Vill you take it up, eh?” 
he continued ; heaping the money together, and pushing 
it across the table. Wolfe, who had still sufficient sense 
left to understand the value of money, grappled with it as 
he best could, and stuffed it into his pockets. 

“ D—d — honest—up—fellow !” said he, evidently : 
quite ignorant of the nature of the transaction; “d—d 
—honest—fellow ! Pay—when—meet—Ports—mouth— 
health—long—life !” So saying, he quaffed off the re¬ 
mainder of his liquor; and, next minute, toppled over in 
his seat, and fell fast asleep. 

The Dutchman, having thus concluded his bargain, 
called the landlord, and told him he had bought the negro. 
Two Hottentot servants, who were waiting for him with¬ 
out, were then summoned in. Poor Tom was bound hand 
and foot, like a sheep going to the shambles, and depos¬ 
ited in the bottom of a large wagon; in which his new 
master was conveying home some other farm stores. The 
Dutchman, and his two Hottentots, mounted in front of 
the vehicle; and, driving off, soon left Canvass Town in 
the rear. 

Meanwhile, Wolfe continued buried in his drunken 
sleep ; from which he did not awake till after day-dawn 
in the morning. When consciousness returned, he recol¬ 
lected where he was ; and his first impulse was to call his 
companion. 

“I say, Tom, you drunken beast; get up, will ye! 
It’s time we were going on board.” 

But poor Tom was not there to answer the summons. 

“ Speak, will you, you black-faced nigger !” continued 
Wolfe ; “ why the devil won’t you speak ? I never knew 
such a stone to sleep in my life ! Tom ! you lubber ; 
rouse up, I say!” 

Receiving no answer to this animated address, he at 
last jumped up, with the intention of awakening his com¬ 
rade by a hearty shake ; and, when the poor fellow was 







„ THE MIDDV. 169 

nowhere to be found, he did not know what to think. 
His first feeling, was one of anger at Tom, for having 
“ cut, and left him, in such a scui*Vy mannerbut, a 
little reflection convinced him, that the negro was the last 
man in the world to leave a friend under such circum¬ 
stances. He, therefore, called the landlord, for the pur¬ 
pose of interrogating him as to the cause of his compan¬ 
ion’s absence. 

“ Where’s Black Tom ?” said he. 

“ W’ere is he ?” replied Adrian Van Struyk. 44 Gone 
away vid he new master, Mynheer.” 

“ Gone away with his new master !” repeated Wolfe ; 
44 why, what the devil do you mean, sirrah?” 

44 Wahrheit, Mynheer !” replied the host. 44 You hab 
him verkauft—sold him !” 

44 Sold him !” 

44 Ya ! to de bauer dat vas here las’ night.” 

44 Boor !” 

44 Ya ! he gab you fifty thaler for him !” 

44 Boor ! fifty dollars !” cried Wolfe, with a look of be¬ 
wilderment. 44 Ilarkye, sirrah! take care what you’re 
after ! Do you think to pass off your jokes on me ?” 

44 No joke at all, Mynheer” replied Adrian ; 44 you hab 
das gelt in your tasch !” 

Wolfe, instinctively, stuffed his hands into his pockets, 
and found the money as the host had indicated. At first, 
he did not know what to make of this, for he well knew 
that four dollars was all the money he had when he en¬ 
tered the tent; but, after a little reflection, he began to 
have some faint remembrance of a stranger, who, on the 
previous evening, had lent him a number of dollars, 
which he had promised to repay. Mine host, however, 
put him right in this particular, by explaining the whole 
transaction; and, as his statement was confirmed by the 
presence of the money, and the absence of Tom, the 
awful truth flashed at once across his mind. He did not, 
however, waste much time in vain regrets; but, having 
informed himself of the direction the wagon had taken, 
he sallied forth, in pursuit of his ill-fated comrade. 

Meanwhile, the phlegmatic Dutchman was driving his 
cargo slowly homewards ; pursuing his way along the 

VOL. I.— 15 






170 


THE MIDDY* 


sea-beach. During the night, throughout which they 
continued their journey, Tom lay like a log in the bottom 
of the wagon ; in a-state of most complete torpor. To¬ 
wards morning, however, though his body still continued 
fast asleep, his mind gave symptoms of returning con¬ 
sciousness ; and a heavy confused dream came over him. 
He fancied himself still at the games of the preceding 
day, engaged in leaping with the young colonist, who had 
vanquished his companion ; and he gave several convul¬ 
sive starts in his sleep as, in imagination, he sprung at the 
bar. In this state he continued for some time; till, the 
effects of the liquor gradually passing off, his bodily 
senses resumed their sway, and his dream was mixed 
with a half-waking consciousness of reality. Dim, re¬ 
turning recollection, carried him back to the moment 
when he was sitting drinking with Wolfe; and, being 
half-conscious of his present recumbent position, he fan¬ 
cied that the usual result of his debauches had overtaken 
him, and that he had fallen asleep on the floor of the tent. 
The jolting of the wagon, he imagined to be his com¬ 
panion, endeavouring to rouse him by shaking ; and, as 
the roughness of the motion gradually awoke him, he 
turned round on his back, gave his shoulders an impatient 
twitch, and called out in a peevish tone: 

“ D—n Dick! what de debbil him shake for ! him want 
sleep.” 

“ Potz-tausend!” cried the Dutchman, turning round 
at the sound of the negro’s voice, and giving him a smart 
lash with his whip ; “lie still, you dam nigger !” 

The sharpness of the blow effectually roused poor 
Tom; who, starting up from his recumbent posture, 
opened his eyes, and gazed around him with a look of 
perfect bewilderment. 

Memory was now completely at fault. The cords on 
his wrists and anckels ; the Dutchman, with his pipe in 
his mouth, and his whip in his hand; the two grinning 
Hottentots ; the wagon itself; all was an inextricable 
riddle. Astonishment at first rendered him motionless ; 
and it was not till after repeated contemplation of the ob¬ 
jects around him, and after frequent rubbings of his eyes, 
to satisfy himself that all was not a dream, that he en- 


THE MIDDY. 


171 

deavoured to rise to his feet. In this attempt, however, 
he was completely baffled, by the cords on his legs ; and, 
after various unsuccessful struggles, he at last rolled fairly 
over on his side, into a corner of the wagon. 

Another application of the Dutchman’s whip, accom¬ 
panied by an exhortation to lie quiet, now roused all the 
tire of Tom’s naturally choleric disposition ; and, regain¬ 
ing with some difficulty his sitting posture, he began to 
curse and swear at a furious .rate; mixing his maledic¬ 
tions with sundry interrogatories, as to where he was, 
who dared to bind him, and so forth. To all this, the 
Dutchman phlegmatically replied, that he had better be 
quiet, otherwise he would flog him into good manners; 
and that there was no use making a work, as he had fairly 
bought him as his slave—and his slave he was ! 

“And who sell me slave, you dam Dutch tief ?” roared 
Tom, half-choked with fury. 

A huge volume of tobacco smoke from the Dutchman’s 
pipe was the only reply. 

“ Who sell me, I say?” again roared Tom. 

Puff, puff, went the pipe ; but not a word in the way of 
answer. 

Tom now went into another tirade of curses; but, find¬ 
ing that all his eloquence produced no other effect, than 
that of making the Dutchman apply more assiduously to 
his tobacco, he, at last, philosophically determined, to give 
himself up to his fate, and to trust to fortune. 

The whole day, they continued their route along the 
sea-coast; only stopping once, to bait the team, and to 
refresh themselves with a little beer and cheese. A part 
• of this fare was thrown to Tom; but he indignantly 
spurned it, and again they continued their journey. 

Towards evening, they left the shore, and took a direc¬ 
tion towards the interior of the country. 

After a jolting drive of some hours, they at last arrived 
at what appeared to be a small farm-house; and here, 
their conductor intimated, they were to pass the night.— 
Tom was removed from ths wagon, and thrown among 
some straw in an out-house ; while the Dutchman and his 
companions adjourned into the principal dwelling. 

Our unlucky negro had scarcely well nestled himself in 



THE MIDDY. 


172 

his straw bed, when one of the Hottentots entered with a 
torch, bringing some bread and water for his supper.— 
The light of the torch gave him an opportunity of observ¬ 
ing, that the place where he lay was that in which the 
farm implements were kept; and, among the rest, he 
discovered several scythes, pruning-hooks, and so forth, 
lying scattered about. 

Tom, whose whole thoughts were bent upon escape, 
immediately took advantage of this circumstance ; and, as 
soon as the Hottentot was gone., he managed to crawl near 
one of the scythes, against the sharp edge of which he 
rubbed the cords on his wrists, till he fairly sawed them 
asunder. Having now the use of his hands, he speedily 
freed his ankles from their bindings ; and, waiting till all 
was quiet in the farm-house, he sallied forth, and took 
the same road, as nearly as he could guess it in the dark¬ 
ness, by which the wagon had arrived. 

Meeting with no obstruction, he plodded on, as fast as 
his active limbs would carry him ; and, after encounter¬ 
ing a variety of difficulties, in the shape of jungles, mor¬ 
asses, and rivers, and having nothing to eat but the wild 
fruits that grew in his path, he arrived, towards the even¬ 
ing of the next day, at the sea-coast. Cheered by the 
prospect of his favourite element, and having the beach to 
act as a guide to his farther course, he persevered in his 
journey, notwithstanding hunger and fatigue; and, on the 
following day, his eyes were blessed by the sight of the 
white tents of Canvass Town. 

Haggard and emaciated, with his clothes nearly torn off 
his back, the poor fellow presented himself, at the Blue 
Boar, just as the usual party were sitting down to dinner. 
As soon as his arrival was announced, Captain Moriey 
summoned him to give an account of himself; when he 
narrated, in his own graphic way, most of the circumstan¬ 
ces I have endeavoured to describe above. 

“And who you tink sell me slave?” he cried, with 
great indignation, when he had concluded his story; at 
which we were all nearly convulsed with laughter. 

“God knows!” replied Captain Moriey; endeavour¬ 
ing, in vain, to look grave. 

“ God knows t” cried Tom ; “ bery true, sur ; but 


THE MIDDY. 


173 

Tom sabe too ! Dat dam tief of de world, Bolpe ! So 
help me God, sur, him sell me for tree hunder rix daller !” 

“ Well, Tom,” said the captain; “ it will be a lesson 
to you in future, never to get drunk ! Where is Wolfe ?” 

“ W’ere um is, sur ? How me know w’ere um is !— 
But if ebber me meet him again—’tand clear, massa 
Bolpe ; dat all !” 

As for Wolfe we fairly gave him up for lost; all our 
inquiries concerning him were fruitless. 

It was not till nearly three weeks, after the occurrence 
of these incidents, that information was brought one eve¬ 
ning, to the Blue Boar, that a stranger, supposed to be a 
sailor in disguise, had arrived in Canvass Town ; and, it 
was shrewdly suspected, that he was no other than our 
absent boatsvvain’s-mate. I was the next midshipman for 
duty ; and two marines, who were of the shore party, be¬ 
ing summoned, we proceeded, with Captain IVIorley, to 
the tent where the man was said to he. The marine* 
remained outside, while the captain and myself entered. 

The tent in which we found ourselves was a miserable 
hovel ; with no other flooring than the bare ground, and 
no furniture, save a few barrels and boxes, which served 
the purposes of tables and chairs. On one of these stood 
an empty bottle, with the remnant of a lighted candle, 
stuck into its half broken neck. 

The only occupants of the place were three women and 
one man. In the appearance of the latter, there was 
nothing very remarkable. He was, apparently, a farmer 
of the middle class ; a tall robust fellow, in a broad-brim¬ 
med hat, bottle-green coat, cord breeches, ribbed worsted 
stockings, and laced half boots. His dress was arranged 
with holiday neatness ; and his well shaven beard “showed 
like a stubble-field, at harvest home.” 

Captain Morley contemplated the group for an instant, 
and then apologized for having intruded upon them. 

“ I was given to understand,” said he, “ that them 
was a man belonging to my ship here ; but I find I have 
been misinformed, and I am sorry for having disturbed 
you.” 

With this apology, the captain was just in the act of 
turning round to leave the tent, when his eye accidentally 

15 * 




174 


THE MIDDY. 


encountered that of the young farmer. No sooner did 
the two glances meet, than there was an instant recogni¬ 
tion on the part of Captain Morley. 

“ Marines!” he cried in a loud voice to the men with¬ 
out—and the two marines immediately appeared at hrs 
summons—“ Seize that fellow and take care that he does 
not escape !” 

The marines laid hold of the man by the collar, one on 
each side ; and Captain Morley left the tent, desiring them 
to follow. 

“ Avast heaving shipmates!” said Wolfe—for the man 
was no other—“let me light my pipe, will ye? If you 
were as hungry and as tired as I am, you wouldn’t be in 
such a d-d hurry to go on board to get flogged.” 

The two men relaxed their hold for an instant at this 
appeal; and Wolfe, with his pipe in his mouth, bent his 
head to the miserable candle end, which stood on one of 
the boxes that strewed the tent. 

“Make haste, men,” cried Morley impatiently, from 
without. 

“ Coming, sir!” replied Wolfe, starting up from his 
stooping posture, with the lighted pipe in his mouth ; and 
the next instant, the two marines were laid sprawling on 
the floor, by an expert “ right and lefter.” 

One spring brought the prisoner to the entrance of the 
tent; the captain stood in the doorway, and obstructed his 
passage. A single blow from the powerful hand of Wolfe, 
would have felled him in an instant to the ground; and 
thus the only obstacle to his retreat, would have been 
removed. But, scarcely had the natural promptings of 
instinct raised his arm to strike the stroke of self-preser¬ 
vation, when it fell again, like a dead weight at his side. 

“ No!” he cried with something between a groan and 
a sigh, while he stood completely subdued in the presence 
of his commander. “ No ! not you !—any one but you ! 
D—n me, if 1 can strike you !” 

Without farther resistance, he suffered himself to be 
secured, and conveyed on board. I need scarcely add 
that, under such extenuating circumstances, Captain 
Morley remitted the punishment of flogging. A night 
passed in irons was the man’s only punishment 



THE MIDDY. 


175 


CHAPTER XVI. 

5 * ' - * ''t ■' . ■*>. - % * ; *-• ^ . ** 

THE YOUNG EMIGRANT. 

f C. ' , _ J » 0 ^ £ 

Poor wight! he little weened how hard, 

For poverty to earn regard ! 

’ Queen’s Wake. 

Among the other emigrants at Algoa Bay, was a young 
man named Rowley Neville; who, from his urbanity and 
gentlemanly deportment, was extremely popular among 
the officers of the Hesperus. Of Captain Morley, in par¬ 
ticular, he was a great favourite ; and the circumstance of 
his having served for several years in the navy, together 
with the peculiar nature of the events, which had induced 
him to leave his native country, and seek an asylum in 
the land of the stranger, probably strengthened the interest 
which the worthy commander felt in him. 

With this gentleman, it was not long, until I formed a 
close intimacy. He was a man exactly to my mind. Of 
a high and generous spirit, upright, uncompromising prin¬ 
ciple, and amiable temper, he was well fitted to win the 
esteem of all; and when, to these attractive qualities, are 
added, the manners of a perfect gentleman, and the cir¬ 
cumstance of his being a member of the same profession 
as myself, it will not appear strange, that his society was 
particularly agreeable to me. Often, long after the other 
members of the party had retired for the night, have he 
and I sat together, in the saloon of the Blue Boar in Can¬ 
vass Town, conversing on such topics of mutual interest, 
as our common profession, and a similarity of tastes, 
plentifully supplied ; and, not a few were the cigars, and 
glasses of grog, that were, on these occasions, consumed, 
during this mutual interchange of thoughts and feelings. 

When our intimacy had ripened, at last, into a more 
familiar friendship, Neville, from time to time, confided 
to me the particulars of his own, and of his father’s his- 





176 


THE MIDDY. 


tory. These, with his permission, I afterwards com¬ 
municated to Captain Morley, who always expressed the 
warmest interest in his welfare; and, as the reader will, 
in the future course of my narrative, have frequent oppor¬ 
tunities of becoming better acquainted with him, I shall 
not apologize for introducing here, those events Of hrs 
life, which ultimately led to our meeting him at Algoa 
Bay. 

As the following incidents, however, were not related 
to me by Neville, in a connected form, but in detached 
passages, and at various intervals, I shall, in recounting 
them, employ my own language; taking care, at the 
same time, to preserve, as much as possible, my friend’s 
graphic descriptions, of persons and events. At present, 
1 shall only add, for the guidance of the reader, that, 
should the story appear to him to be tedious, he may pass 
over all that relates to “ The Young Emigrant,” without 
infringing, in the least, upon my own particular narrative. 

Neville’s father was a cadet of a good family ; but, as 
frequently happens with English “ younger sons,” his 
only patrimony was an untarnished pedigree, and an en¬ 
sign’s commission in the army. 

While yet holding a rank no higher than that of lieuten¬ 
ant, he chanced to spend the merry weeks of Christmas, 
at the seat of a worthy baronet, a distant connection of 
his mother, and an extensive landed proprietor in a west¬ 
ern county in England. 

This gentleman had an only daughter; a young lady of 
great beauty and accomplishments; for the honour of 
whose hand and fortune, several of the neighbouring 
squires held an eager rivalship. 

But the pensive Emma could find no pleasure in the 
society of those gentlemen. Neither in tastes, nor in 
habits, were they at all fitted, for the witching sphere of 
“ lady’s bower.” That nice delicacy of deportment, and 
winning refinement of manners, which alone find favour 
with a high-minded woman, formed none of their qualifi¬ 
cations. Scorning all the lighter, and more elegant ac¬ 
complishments of their sex, they devoted themselves ex¬ 
clusively, to the sports of the field, and the pleasures of 








THE MIDDY. 


177 


the bottle; and, accordingly, as old Hal Wharton ex¬ 
presses it, they were only fit 

To drink and sleep, 

By their own fire ; 

And when awake, were only good 
To whoop and hallo in a wood. 

One after another, Emma rejected their suits; and, in 
doing so, she gave great offence to her honest father, who 
told her “ she was a foolish girl; and that, whatever she 
might think to the contrary, ten thousand a-year, and a 
handsome establishment, were not matters to be sneezed 
at.” 

Emma, however, persisted in rejecting the addresses of 
her fox-hunting suitors, and the old gentleman ceased to 
press the point for the present; consoling himself with 
the reflection, that his daughter was yet young, and that 
a few more years would teach her more discretion. . 

At this juncture, Lieutenant Neville arrived at the hall. 
Young, handsome, and accomplished ; with all that pol¬ 
ished refinement of manners, and chivalrous devotion to 
“ the fair,” which characterise the officers of the British 
army, was it strange that Emma should considei him infi¬ 
nitely superior to the rude, fox-hunting class, she was in 
the habit of seeing at her father’s board; or, even, that 
she should look upon him, as approaching somewhat 
nearer that ideal standard of perfection, by which, seclu¬ 
sion, and Richardson, had taught her to estimate the quali¬ 
ties of the rougher sex? . „ f 

As for Neville, he had often heard his mother talk ot 

Miss Sharman, as a very pretty girl; but he was by no 
means prepared, 

^ _ __ 5 , 

him, when he was presented to “cousin Emma. 

At first, he gazed upon her, timidly and at a distance, 
as a devotee gazes on the image of his idolatry ; nor, was 
it till after an acquaintance of some weeks, that he ven¬ 
tured to express his admiration, even by the silent and un¬ 
obtrusive language of the eye. Emma read his looks with 
prophetic exactness; and although, for a ume, she en 
countered his earnest glances with an embarrassed blush, 
she became gradually accustomed to them, and, at length, 
even ventured a responsive glance of her own. 





178 


THE MIDDY. 


Thus, a silent, though perfectly intelligible, correspon¬ 
dence, was established between them ; by means of which 
they communicated to each other, all those tender feel¬ 
ings, hopes, and wishes, which are so inadequately ex¬ 
pressed by the language of the lips. Without the use of 
words, everything was arranged and understood. There 
needed no promises and protestations to bind the agree¬ 
ment ; it was a compact of the heart; and, in the generous 
bosom of either lover, the generous passion with which 
they were mutually inspired, was already sufficiently re¬ 
cognised. • 

Accordingly, when the time of Neville’s departure drew 
nigh, and he, at last, ventured on a formal declaration of 
his love, he found the candid Emma quite prepared to 
listen to him ; and he received, with rapture, her whisper¬ 
ed acquiescence, provided he could obtain the consent of 
her father. 

But here, exactly, the difficulty lay. It is true, the good 
old baronet was extremely partial to Neville. He liked 
him for the frank manliness of his manners, and the fine, 
soldier-like independence of his bearing ; he liked him, 
moreover because he was a finished sportsman, and man¬ 
aged his horse in the field with admirable grace and adroit¬ 
ness ; and, although he could not compete with the other 
guests, in the use of the bottle, he made up for this, by 
cheering them, over their liquor, with an excellent song. 
But, then, he was a young man without fortune ; and this, 
Neville well knew, would be an insuperable objection, 
with the good baronet, should he appear in the capacity of 
a suitor for his daughter’s hand. 

Nevertheless, urged by the ardour of his passion, he 
determined to run all risks, and declare himself;- which 
he accordingly did, one snowy morning, when the hounds 
could not hunt, and when the baronet was, consequently, 

confined to the desperation of his easy-chair, and a hit at 
back gammon. 

Having first put him into good humour, by allowing 
him to win a few games, Neville took advantage of a pause 
and opened the matter, by a long and appropriate speech! 
i he baronet listened to him, with great attention, though 
without being able to comprehend the drift of his oration ; 


THE MIDDY. 


179 

but, when he at last concluded, by formally asking the 
hand of Emma in marriage, the good old gentleman threw 
himself back in his chair, and burst out into an immode¬ 
rate fit of laughter. 

“ Whoo-o-oop!” he cried, as soon as he was sufficient¬ 
ly composed to speak ; “ here’s a pretty trail to come 
upon of a dewy morning ! God bless you, boy ; have you 
lost your senses, or do you take my girl for a fool ? You 
marry Emma ! Lord love you ! don’t you know that she has 
refused ten thousand a-year ; and do you think she would 
ever consent to listen to you! No offence, Harry; you are 
a very fine fellow, and I like you because you are so ; but 
you know, as well as I do, that you’re not a rich one ! 
Come, come, my boy; no more of this nonsense ; set 
your men, and let’s have another rubber. Emma !—bless 
your silly heart—the throw’s mine—how she would 
laugh if she knew of this story ! But, come away ; never 
be frightened ; I won’t tell her a word about it!” 

Neville, however, was by no means in a humour to be 
laughed out of his purpose. He pressed the point with 
much warmth; and, at last, fairly told the baronet that, 
as far as the young lady was concerned, he had nothing 
to fear, as he had already obtained her consent. 

This declaration roused all the latent fire of old Sir 
Rowley. He started from his chair, dashed the dice-box 
on the ground, and, confronting Neville, with an enraged 
look, “ What’s this you tell me, sir!” he cried in a loud 
and angry tone; “ did you dare to slip your ferret, in my 
warren without leave! Well, sir! I had formed a better 
opinion of you ; but I’ve done with you now. Emma, 
indeed! But I won’t waste words on you ! Tramp, sir! 
Tramp, I say ! Leave the hall this instant; and never let 
me see your face again!"’ 

Too proud to remain till this injunction was repeated, 
Neville, with great apparent coolness, rose, bade the baro¬ 
net a good morning, and, walking out of the room, with 
the stiff stride of offended dignity, forthwith left the house, 
and ordered his servant to follow him to the village inn, 
with his trunk. 

As he considered that the baronet had fairly thrown 
down the gauntlet, and defied him, he thought he would 







THE MIDDY. 


ISO 

now be fully justified ill taking up the pledge, and in out¬ 
manoeuvring the old gentleman, if he could. He, ac¬ 
cordingly, fixed his residence at the Sharman Arms, in the 
village; and having, at the expense of the greater part of 
his existing funds, suborned the services of Emma’s sou- 
brette, he established a close correspondence with the 
lady; and, at last, succeeded in prevailing on her to elope 
with him. 

One night, when old Sir Rowley and his son were 
abroad at dinner, having procured a chariot for the pur¬ 
pose, he carried her off to the house of a young friend of 
his, a clergyman, where they were duly married. 

The rage of the baronet, when he learned what had hap¬ 
pened, was fully commensurate to the provocation he had 
received. He raved and swore at Neville, for an arrant 
knave, and at his daughter, for an ungrateful baggage ; and 
he vowed that “ she should never darken his door again, 
but, that, as she had chosen to run off with a beggar, she 
might stand the consequences of her disobedience and im¬ 
prudence.” 

To this determination he rigidly adhered. It was in 
vain that Emma wrote to him, in a style of extreme peni¬ 
tence, craving his forgiveness ; her letters were never 
answered, and generally returned to her unopened. At 
last, the pride of Neville took fire, at what he conceived 
these repeated insults ; and he forbade his wife to expose 
herself in future to such indignity. She, therefore, ceased 
to write to her obdurate parent; and, having hired a small 
lodging in the neighbourhood of quarters, the imprudent 
couple continued to live, as they best could, on love and 
lieutenant’s pay. 

Nearly eleven years passed on in this manner, during 
which time Neville was promoted to the rank of captain; 
but not the slightest intercourse was held with the family 
at Sharman Hall. 

It was about this period, that the great Peninsular war 

broke out, and the-regiment was ordered abroad on 

active service. Emma insisted on accompanying her hus¬ 
band on this expedition ; but he, knowing the difficulties 
and dangers she would encounter in following the camp, 
prevailed on her to remain at home ; assuring her, that 



THE MIDDY. 


1S1 


the campaign would not probably be of long continuance, 
and that he would speedily return. 

Almost immediately on his arrival in Portugal, Neville 
was engaged in the famous defeat of Laborde, at Roleia, 
where he displayed great gallantry ; “ reaping the iron 
harvest of the field,” with the most dauntless courage, in 
the very thickest of the fray. 

It chanced, that, while he was thus engaged, he observed 
a young officer of cavalry, dismounted from his horse, and 
fighting, at great disadvantage, against several assailants. 
Rushing instantly to his assistance, he arrived just in time 
to save his life. One of the enemy had struck down the 
officer’s sword, and another was on the point of cleaving 
him to the ground, when Neville interposed, and warded 
off the blow. A keen contest ensued, in which British 
bravery triumphed over French numbers; and the assail¬ 
ants were ultimately either cut down or dispersed. 

The victory achieved, the two conquerors, the preserver 
and the preserved, dropped their reeking swords, and re¬ 
garded each other for a moment. 

“ This is no time for idle ceremony,” said the young 
officer, addressing Neville; “ you have saved a soldier’s 
life, and earned a soldier’s gratitude;” saying which, he 
seized his preserver’s hand, and shook it with heartfelt 
cordiality. Neville, on his part, declared that he consi¬ 
dered the event fortunate, which had given him an oppor¬ 
tunity of serving so truly gallant a comrade. 

“ There will be hot work in the field to-day,” replied 
the officer; “and we may probably never meet again. 
Allow me, before we part, to offer you this small memo¬ 
rial of my gratitude ;” and he drew a gold signet-ring 
from his finger, as he spoke, and slipped it on the blood¬ 
stained hand of his preserver. 

“ I shall esteem it,” said Neville, “ as a memorial of 
the gallantry of him who gave it.” 

They then separated, each engaging with renewed ar¬ 
dour in the combat; which terminated, as every one 
knows, in the triumph of British arms. 

The opening of the Portugese war was no holiday work 
for our gallant troops. On the 17th of August, the battle 
of Roleia was fought; on the 18th, Sir Arthur Wellesley 

VOL. I. —16 


THE MIDDY. 


182 

advanced upon Vimeira. Here he was met by the well- 
disciplined host of the atrocious Junot. One of the 
bloodiest days in the annals of the war ensued. The 
British troops, whose well known maxim is Victory or 
Death, fought, as brave men fight, for honour and their 
cause ; and they were opposed by the impetuous ferocity 
of the French, who fought, as demons fight, for carnage 
and for spoil. 

In the very hottest of the contest, the gallant Captain 
Neville was seen, at the head of his division, urging on 
his men by word and example, and bearing down the 
columns of the enemy, with that insuperable ardour, 
which, the justice of his cause, ever inspires in the breast 
of the soldier. 

While he was thus bravely opening up, with his sword, 
the bright path to honour and fame, he was struck by a 
musket-shot from the enemy’s lines. He staggered, and 
fell into the arms of a brother officer, who was combating 
at his side. 

“ The wound is mortal!” he said with great composure, 
in answer to the inquiring looks of his comrade. “ Bar¬ 
nard !” he continued, “ if ever you reach home commend 
me to my wife—give her this ring, and tell her to preserve 
it, as a memorial of her unfortunate husband.” 

He spoke these words in a voice so faltering as scarcely 
to be audible ; and, when he had placed the ring—the same 
which he received from the cavalry officer at Roleia—in 
his comrade’s hand, he sunk back upon his arm, and ex¬ 
pired. 

The ultimate history of the battle of Vimeira is well 
known. The total defeat of the redoubted Junot—the 
wise policy.proposed by Sir Arthur Wellesley—the fatal 
opposition of Sir Harry Burrard, and the unjustifiable 
convention of Cintra, are circumstances engraven on the 
memory of every Briton. 

The distress of the bereaved widow, when she re¬ 
ceived the intelligence of her husband’s death, may easily 
be imagined. It was conveyed to her, together with the 
ring, by Neville’s comrade, Barnard ; who, having lost an 
arm, and been otherwise grievously wounded in the 
action, returned home, in the same ship with the recalled 
generals. 



THE MIDDY. 


183 


When the first burst of grief had subsided, her thoughts 
naturally reverted to her present forlorn condition ; left as 
she was, with two children, entirely dependent on the 
ifcanty pittance of a widow’s pension. Her father, old 
feir Rowley, had died some time before; having been 
killed by a fall from his horse while hunting; and his 
estates were now enjoyed by his only son, Sir Hugh. 

This gentleman was an exact counterpart of his father; 
good-natured, kind-hearted, easy man, who loved his 
sport and his comforts, and whose only ambition was, to 
possess the best hounds, the best stud, and the best claret 
in the county. The sudden nature of the old gentleman’s 
death, had prevented him from making any settlement in 
his daughter’s favour; and he died without leaving her a 
farthing. Frequently, since that event, she had purposed 
writing to her brother; but she was invariably prevented 
by her husband, who said he could not permit her to 
expose herself to insult and indignity, by applying to a 
quarter, where she had hitherto met with so little sym¬ 
pathy. 

But she now considered it a duty, which she owed to 
her children, as well as to herself, to apply to her brother, 
who was the only person from whom she could, with 
propriety, seek protection in her present destitute condi¬ 
tion. She, accordingly, wrote to him a long letter, narra¬ 
ting the particulars of her husband’s death ; and explaining 
the nature of the circumstances in which she was left. 
She told him of her two children, and how entirely de¬ 
pendent they were on her for suppor t; and concluded by 
entreating, that all former coldness might be forgotten, 
and that he would receive her again in her native home, 
now the only place on earth where she could seek an 
asylum. 

When the day arrived, on which an answer to this letter 
became due, in course of post, she went with a beating 
heart to the village post-office. But there was no letter 
for her there. Two days more elapsed without bringing 
the desired answer; and, she was beginning to fear, that 
her application had met with the same fate as those she had 
addressed to her father, when, on the third day, the follow¬ 
ing characteristic epistle, sealed with a huge blazonry of 
the Sharman arms, was put into her hands. 


184 


THE MIDDY. 


“ Sharman-Hall, Sunday. 

“Dear Sister, —I got your letter last Friday when I 
came in from the hunt, and would have answered it soon¬ 
er, only I had Squire Stiles, and some of the neighbours, 
to dine* with me, and they well-nigh drank me blind. The 
squire’s a mighty deal worse nor when you was here, and 
never stops under four bottles. Then on Saturday, I had 
to be astir betimes, for the hounds were to meet at Horsley ; 
we broke cover in the thick fuise at Underlyn, and had a 
glorious run all the way across the common to Horndean, 
and there the fox earthed, so we lost him. Then at night 
I had to dine with Squire Stiles, and had the coach up to 
fetch me home, for the squire’s dinners are always some¬ 
what wet. So I could not write you that night, being very 
tiled ; but, this being Sunday, I have more leisure on hand, 
and am sorry to hear of the captain’s being killed. You 
know I always liked Harry, and thought father rather 
over hard on him ; but you know I always gave the good 
gentleman his own way, and never contradicted him; as, 
indeed, where was the use, seeing he never minded a 
word I said an old whip-cord. But that’s just the worst 
of being a soldier; for then, as the vicar says, there’s no 
respect of persons. However, it can’t be helped now, 
only I’m sorry for it, poor fellow. Bless your silly heart, 
Emma ! what is it you speak about coldness : you know 
girl, I always loved you, although father set me up a little 
both against you and the captain. But there’s no use 
talking. I’ve given orders to have your rooms all made 
ready as before, and the sooner you come to the Hall, the 
better I’ll like it. Novv I think on’t, I’ll send up Dick, 
with the coach, to fetch you down. I can easily spare it, 
as I never get into it, only when I’m dining with Squire 
Stiles, or the like; and it will be more convenient for you 
and the little ones. I would have come up for vou my¬ 
self, only the hounds are to be out every day this week, 
and we expect some spanking runs ; so you see I’ve a 
great deal of business on hand. Old Joe, the huntsman, 
is always asking about you ; and when I told him, yester¬ 
day, you were coming home, the old chap began to 
blubber like a child. Father let your flower-garden run 
all up with weeds, and as to the bower, there was no 


THE MIDDY. 


185 


poking your nose into it for the creepers; but I’ve 
ordered Sims to have it all cleaned, and the Woodbine 
cut, and he’s to have some prime new-fashioned flowers 
in it before you come home. So keep up your heart, my 
little Emma, and come as soon as you can. I’ll send off 
Dick to-morrow morning; you never saw such a prime 
team of bays as I’ve got for the old machine—only don’t 
put yourself in a quandary, or hurry yourself—only I’m 
longing to see you. Is Rowley anything like father ? he 
was a main good man father, though he had his own ways, 
and was always over hard in your affair. But there’s no 
use talking. If you could come on Thursday, I shall 
have no one here, and we can chat together about old 
things ; only don’t hurry yourself, but keep Dick as long 
as you like. I was bargaining yesterday about a bay filly 
for you ; I’m sure she’s a good one, for she’s out of fa¬ 
ther’s old mare that he used to ride when you were here. 
You recollect old Die—a prime one in the field, wasn’t 
she? I’ll send up a handful of notes with Dick, in case 
be you have any scores to settle where you are ; but I 
must now stop, as we have a prime haunch this afternoon, 
and I have some of the neighbours to dine with me. 

“ Your affectionate brother, 

“ Hugh Sharman.” 

It would be superfluous to describe the pleasure which 
Mrs. Neville derived from this quaint, but truly affection¬ 
ate, epistle. Her little arrangements were soon made ; 
and, in a few days, she was once more an inmate of the 
hall of her fathers. * 

Here she found everything arranged according to her 
fondest wishes. Sir Hugh conducted himself towards 
her with true fraternal kindness. Whatever he thought 
would please, or humour her, he did with alacrity; and, 
he even carried his complaisance so far, as to absent him¬ 
self from some of the county-club dinners, in order that 

she might not be left alone. 

For occupation, she was never at a loss. Her brother 
committed to her the entire superintendence of his house¬ 
hold affairs; and he declared that, in this capacity, “ she 
was a perfect god-send to him; for, though the house- 

16 * 







186 


THE MIDDY. 


keeper was a very honest woman in her way, yet still she 
was a housekeeper.” 

Nothing was done by the baronet, either in or out of 
doors, without the advice of his sister. He never even 
purchased a horse, but he had it paraded in the lawn, that 
she might pass judgment upon it; “ for Emma,” he would 
say, “ knows a Barb from a Fleming; and is as good a 
judge of horse-flesh as any squire in the county.” 

But, the chief object of her care, was the education of 
her daughter Mary ; a charming little girl, about eight 
years old, who promised to emulate her mother in beauty 
of person, as well as in amiability of disposition. Emma’s 
extensive accomplishments qualified her well for the office 
of an instructress ; and the aptitude of her daughter’s 
talent rendered her task truly delightful. 

' As to the boy, who was a fine manly fellow of ten 
years, the care of his mental culture was entrusted to the 
curate of the parish; while the baronet took upon him¬ 
self, the task of instructing him in everything, that came 
within the range of his own accomplishments. 

The curate was a scholar, a gentleman, and an amiable 
man. Under his care, little Rowley made rapid advances 
in polite literature ; and, what is of much more import¬ 
ance, he imbibed pure principles of moral rectitude, and 
acquired an habitual veneration for the sublime truths of 
our holy religion. 

The baronet’s range of instruction was more limited, 
and was founded, unknown to himself, upon the renowned 
principle of the ancient Persians. He taught his nephew, 
exactly what the Persians taught their youth, “ to ride, 
to shoot, and speak the truth.” In instilling into his pupil 
a just regard for the latter of these, which he considered 
the great mainspring of honour, morality, and everything 
else, he was extremely scrupulous ; and he, sometimes, 
even went so far, as to hold an edifying lecture on the 
subject. 

“ Look ye, Rowley,” he would say, whenever the de¬ 
tection ol a falsehood among his domestics, or any other 
circumstance, gave him an opportunity of launching forth 
on his favourite topic—for, in morals, this might be term¬ 
ed the baronet’s hobby—“ I’ll tell you what, my boy ; I 


THE MIDDY. 


187 


wouldn’t give the crack of a bit of old whip-cord, for any 
man that didn’t always speak the truth. There’s no use 
talking, but mark my words ; the man who can bring 
himself to tell a falsehood, would cut his neighbour’s 
throat, if he dared. No matter what it’s about—it’s the 
principle, Roe’, it’s the principle—never lose sight of 
that, my boy; or, if you do, you’ll be hanged, as sure 
as yon are your mother’s son. There’s no use talking, 
but mark my words !” 

In the other accomplishments which his uncle taught 
him, Rowley soon became a great proficient. He man¬ 
aged his angling rod with superior skill, and could throw 
thirty yards of line with ease; making his flies fall, light 
as thistle-down, exactly on the spot where he wished to 
drop them. In shooting, he gained the approbation of 
his uncle ; and, in riding, he would dash at everything, 
and seldom met with a fall. 

It was with pride, that his fond mother beheld his im¬ 
provement in these manly exercises, which only kept pace 
with his advancement in his studies; and, both his in¬ 
structors had thus every cause to be satisfied, with the 
attainments of their amiable pupil. 

Under such circumstances, what could be wanting to 
render Mrs. Neville completely happy ? With the kind 
attentions of a fond brother to soothe, and the smiling 
looks of her charming children to cheer her; surrounded 
by every comfort and luxury she could desire : dwelling 
amid scenes, fitted to recall the fondest recollections of 
her infancy and childhood, could sorrow ever intrude, to 
cloud the sunshine of her peaceful days? Yes ! strange 
as it may seem, Emma was not happy. Cheerful, indeed, 
she endeavoured to appear; but, though she never ob¬ 
truded her grief upon her friends, she indulged it to the 
full, in her hours of solitude. Sometimes her children 
would surprise her in tears; but she w'ould dry her eyes, 
aud smile, as they approached—a languid smile—a solita¬ 
ry ray of gladness, struggling through heavy clouds of 
grief. 

The kindness of her bother, she endeavoured to repay, 
by sometimes even appearing lively in his company : but, 
an experienced eye could still trace, in her beautiful fea- 





188 


THE MIDDi r . 


tures, the silent sorrow, that rankled at her heart, and 
endiademed, her once smiling forehead, with the cincture 
of wo. 

What could her grief be ? Those who have loved, as 
as Emma did, with all the intense warmth of a first, and 
devoted passion, and who have seen the idol of their dear¬ 
est affections snatched away by an untimely death, can 
best answer the question. No occupation, no change of 
scene, no fascinations of society, could ever banish from 
her thoughts the memory of him whom she had lost; of 
him, in whom all her warmest affections had been centred, 
and, in whose grave, her most fondly cherished hopes, 
were for ever entombed. 

He who believes, that human life is never sacrificed, at 
the shrine of human affection ; who considers, that “ the 
broken heart,” has no existence, but in the fevered fancy 
of the poet ; knows little of the intensity of ardour, with 
which fond woman loves ! Deep, in her very heart of 
hearts, the all-engrossing passion is enshrined ; there she 
nourishes, and fans it, with the enthusiastic devotion of 
an idolater ; and, when aught occurs to blast the sacred 
flame, the altar and the worshipper sink together in the 
dust. And so it was with Emma Neville. Her health 
gradually became affected by the intensity of her grief; 
like some fair summer flower, drooping in the sunshine, 
she gently faded away ; meek, patient, and resigned; 

With, all the while, a cheek whose bloom 
Was but a mockery of the tomb ; 

Whose tint as gently died away, 

As the departing rainbow’s ray. 

When sensible that her end was near, she summoned 
her children to her bedside, and blessed them ; and, having 
drawn from her finger the ring which her husband had 
sent her, she placed it in the hand of her son. 

“ It is a memorial of your father, Rowley,” she said ; 
“ let it be a memorial of your mother also !” and, having 
commended the orphans to the care of her brother, she 
kissed them, sunk back, smiled, and died. 

About a year had passed away after this sad event, and 
the hand of time had already done much to heal the wounds 


THE MIDDY. 189 

of the bereaved, when one morning, Squire Stiles pre¬ 
sented himself at the hall. The squire was a sadly alter¬ 
ed man. The burly rotundity of his person had shrunk 
into the most meagre spareness ; his once plump cheeks 
were pale and livid ; and the jolly rubicund tint of his 
face, had settled in a deep purple, round the region of 
the nose. 

“ Whoo-o-oop!” cried the baronet, as soon as his 
friend was ushered into the room ; glad to see thee a-field 
-again, squire. Blown a bit, however, eh?” 

“ Tfaith you may say that,” replied the squire ; “ a 
pretty chase I’ve had on’t these six months! Would you 
believe it, Sir Hugh, I’m not allowed to taste a drop of 
anything stronger than home-brewed ? But that’s not 
the worst on’t. What think ye ? The doctor says I’ll 
die, and no redemption, if I don’t take a run, for a couple 
of months, to Cheltenham, to drink their infernal rot-gut 
waters ! Ods rattans ! a pretty pass it’s come to—die 
quotha !” 

“ Then I’d advise you to go,” said Sir Hugh ; “ if you 
don’t, you’ll die, as sure as your name’s Stiles—that is, if 
the doctor said so.” 

“ Well, that’s just what I’ve been thinking,” replied the 
squire. “ Now, look ye, Sir Hugh—if you’ll go with me, 
I’ll go; but, I’ll be whipped, if 1 budge a step, to such 
an outlandish place, alone. Say, done ! and tip me your 
hand on’t, and all’s right: if not, I may just die and be 
d—d ; for, burn me, if I go alone, for all the doctors in 
Christendom !” 

This was an appeal, to the friendship and good nature 
of the baronet, which he could by no means resist; in¬ 
deed, upon his acceding to the squire’s proposal, the life 
or death of the latter might be said to depend. Accord¬ 
ingly, they shook hands over it; the bargain was con¬ 
cluded ; and, the children having been duly committed to 
the care of the housekeeper, the two friends were, in a 
few days, wheeling along, for the far-famed Cheltenham ; 
as fast, as four post-horses could drag, the somewhat 
cumbrous chariot of the worthy squire. 

Who is he, who can boast of having put a spoke in the 
wheel of Fortune, or of having read the riddles in the book 
of Fate ? 






190 


THE MIDDY. 


While Sir Hugh Sharman “ rolled along the turnpike,” \ 
snugly ensconced, in the corner of his well-padded chariot, 
and snoring, in harmonious concert with his intellectual 1 
friend, little did he dream of what Fate was preparing for | 
him. 

Those who have resided in Cheltenham know, what a 
motley group of human beings, the attractions of that cele¬ 
brated place, yearly congregate. First, and, in the fore¬ 
ground of the picture, we have an infinite variety of choco¬ 
late-cheeked, asthmatic, old Indians ; who are endeavour¬ 
ing to patch up their broken constitutions, and to enjoy 
their riches, so dearly earned by the sacrifice of health. 
Next, come the heirs, and heiresses, of these “ weak old 
men,” in the persons of some half score of dashing ne¬ 
phews and nieces, who are impatiently watching the pro¬ 
gress, of their “dear uncles,” towards the grave; com¬ 
fortably assured, that they cannot, by any possibility, 
survive much longer, and that there is every chance, of | 
their being suddenly carried off, by an apoplectic shock, < 
or, at least, by a severe fit of asthma. After these, we I 
have a whole guild of gouty aldermen, who are paying 
the earthly penalty of too free an indulgence in “ the good 
things of this life.” Then, we have a numerous assem¬ 
blage, of gentlemanly fortune-hunters, who are laying 
their gins for some fair matrimonial prize ; of young la^ 
dies, endeavouring to coquet themselves into -the posses¬ 
sion of husbands ; of mothers, seeking a suitable market 
for their rosy-cheeked daughters ; and of buxom widows, 
who, tired of their state of single blessedness, are looking 
out for matches, “ suitably apportioned.” Add to these, 
an infinite variety of sharpers, and rakes ; whose sole ob¬ 
ject is gaming, and dissipation ; and you will have a pret¬ 
ty accurate summary of the motley multitude, who annu¬ 
ally make the use of the waters, the pretext, under which, 
they prosecute their various designs. 

Daily may the public walks, and the pumproom, be 
seen crowded by this incongruous assemblage ; each oc¬ 
cupied with his own affairs, and paying little attention to 
his neighboui s, except^ in so far, as he may consider 
them useful to his own purposes. 

The arrival of Sir Hugh Sharman and his friend, caus- 








THE MIDDY. 


191 


ed, at first, a sensation, such as every man causes, who 
! drives up to the principal house, with four horses in his 
carriage. 

Who was he ; and what could have brought him to the 
wells ? He was too robust to be an invalid, and too care¬ 
less, in his habits, to be a valetudinarian; his look was 
too honest and open for a sharper; he was too old, and 
somewhat too corpulent, for a lover ; he spent his money 
too freely for a fortune-hunter; and was by far too hale 
and vigorous for a debauchee. 

But, it was not long, till his rank, name, and fortune, 
were sufficiently known ; and from that moment, he be¬ 
came an object of particular attention, particularly among 
the ladies. Mothers, who had marriageable daughters, 
fawned upon him, and flattered him ; the young ladies 
displayed their sweetest looks in his presence ; and all 
seemed anxious to captivate the substantial baronet, and 
his snug thousands a-year. 

Among the rest, was a certain Mrs. Western; a young, 
widow lady, of considerable personal attractions, who had 
ostensibly come to the wells for the health of her son ; a 
great, lubberly, pampered-looking boy, of about fifteen. 

The deceased husband of this lady, having been, in the 
words of the song, nothing more than 


An oily soap laborator, 
And, also, a Whig-orator ; 


she was by no means admitted, in those aristocratic days, 
into the society of “ the exclusives” of Cheltenham. She 
moved entirely in the lower circles ; but there, from her 
talents at whist, and her unrivalled collection of the ruling 
scandals of the day, she was considered a person of no 
small note. 

The ostensible object, as I have said, of this lady’s visit 
to the wells,, was the health of her son ; her real one, the 
laudable purpose, of endeavouring to find a suitable suc¬ 
cessor to “ her poor, dear Western,” in the person of any 
substantial, middle-aged gentleman, whom her juvenile 
charms might chance to captivate. 

As soon as Mrs. Western saw Sir Hugh Sharman, and 
became acquainted with the particulars of his rank and 









THE MIDDV. 


192 

fortune, it occurred to her, that he was the man, of all 
others, made, as it were, to her hand. She had few op¬ 
portunities, indeed, of meeting him in society; for Sir 
Hugh moved in a totally different circle ; but, whenever 
she encountered him in the public walks, or at the pump- 
room, she played upon him with the whole artillery of 
her full dark eyes. 

At first, the baronet took no notice of her glances ; in¬ 
deed, he was not sufficiently skilled in the tactics of the 
sex, even to be aware that they were intended for him ; 
but, after repeated attacks, and several well-managed 
blushes, on the part of the lady, when Sir Hugh chanced 
to encounter her enamoured eye, the honest gentleman 
began to think that she was really extremely pretty ; and, 
one day, he went home, and told Squire Stiles, that, 
“ might he never take another brush, but Mrs. Western 
was a deuced fine woman !*’ 

In the meantime, the wily widow played her game with 
the most consummate dexterity. She was sure to meet 
the baronet, accidentally, wherever he went; and on such 
occasions, she took care to betray a sufficient quantity of 
amiable embarrassment. If she met him in the public 
walk, she never failed to gaze on him intently, till his 
glance, wandering over the multitude, chanced to encoun¬ 
ter hers ; when she instantly sunk her eyes to the ground, 
with a due degree of blushing trepidation. In the pump- 
room, if he were present, a glass of waters, which she was 
conveying to her lips, was sure to tremble violently in her 
hand ; and, when he looked at her, it trembled still more. 

All this. Sir Hugh could not avoid observing; and, 
though he had no means of ascertaining the real character 
of the widow, he insensibly became more and more con¬ 
vinced, that she was “ a very superior woman !” Still, 
however, he never dreamed, of carrying his admiration 
beyond mere empty ceremonial; till, one day, after their 
acquaintance had been sufficiently matured, the pretty 
widow took occasion, during a stroll in the park, to ask 
him why he had never married. 

“ I wish,” said she, “ you had only seen how happy 
my poor dear Western was ! Poor, sweet man—he loved 
me so!” 



THE MIDDY. 


193 

Sir Hugh cast a glance on the “full, voluptuous, but 
not o’ergrovvn form” of his companion, and thought it was 
very natural, for “her poor dear Western,” to love her. 

“ To be sure,” she continued, “ I was always very kind 
to him, and did everything 1 could to make him comfort¬ 
able ; and then I never interfered with any of his little 
ways, poor dear man, and never contradicted him, but 
just let him do what he liked. But, indeed, that’s my 
way, Sir Hugh ; I never can interfere with other people’s 
little hobbies ; though poor Western had his full share of 
them, it is true.” 

“ What a sweet-tempered amiable creature l” thought 
Sir Hugh. 

The trenches being thus opened, to use a military 
phrase, it would be needless to follow the intriguing 
widow, through the whole progress of her amorous siege, 
upon the heart of the unlucky baronet. Suffice it to say, 
that the stronghold at last capitulated; and, in three weeks, 
Sir Hugh led her, as his blushing bride, to the altar. 

After the customary honey-moon excursion had been 
duly completed, they took up their residence at Sharman 
Hall; and Lady Sharman’s son, George Western, or 
“ Georgey dear,” as she used to call him, formed, of 
course, one of the party. 

The heart of the ci-devant widow rose high within her, 
when she beheld the tine old baronial residence, of which 
she was now mistress, and traversed, in company with 
her husband, the broad acres of the estate. She contem¬ 
plated, in perspective, the death of the good old baronet, 
and the succession of her son to the splendid demesne ; 
she thought of the important figure she would cut in the 
county, as the dowager lady of the hall; and she had 
already planned a variety of alterations and improvements 
which should be completed in that event; for she knew 
that “ Georgey dear,” would give up everything to her 
direction. 

In the meantime, she commenced a regular system of 
domestic, and economic, reform. All the old servants, 
and retainers of the family, were dismissed, and an en¬ 
tirely new set introduced. She declared, that Sir Hugh 
lived far too extravagantly for his income; and the honest 
VOL i.— 17 






194 


THE MIDDY. 


baronet was, accordingly, forced to part with half of his? 
stud; and, at length, even to dispose of his fox-hounds. 
The garden, which was extensive, and maintained at con¬ 
siderable expense, was found to be unnecessarily large; 
and two-thirds of it were, forthwith, ploughed up, and 
laid off in grass. The baronet’s hunting-stable, over the 
stalls of which, were painted the proud names of his an¬ 
cestors’ favourite horses, was converted into a cow-house ; 
where the lady kept a number of those useful animals, for 
the laudable purpose of trafficking in butter and cheese. 

In one word, the reins of government were completely 
transferred, from the hands of Sir Hugh, to those of his 
wife ; and, the once omnipotent baronet, could scarcely 
even be said, to possess a vote in his own council. What¬ 
ever he proposed, was met by the keenest opposition: 
and, before a year had elapsed, Lady Sharman and 
“ Georgey dear” ruled supreme. 

In one thing, however, to the great chagrin of his lady, 
Sir Hugh was immoveable. He had made a settlement of 
his estate, in case of his dying without children, in favour 
of his nephew Rowley Neville ; and his wife used all her 
rhetoric to no purpose, in endeavouring to prevail on him 
to alter this arrangement, and substitute her own son 
George. Sir Hugh was perfectly obdurate; neither threats 
nor entreaties could move him ; his nephew was, as he 
deserved to be, a great favourite, and the very sight of 
“ Georgey dear,” was loathsome to him. 

Finding all her efforts in this affair fruitless, Lady 
Sharman changed her tactics, and resolved to effect her 
purpose in another way. 

She saw how affectionately her husband loved his ne¬ 
phew ; and she saw, too, that, independently of his rela¬ 
tionship, it was the fine, manly, honorable character of 
the boy, that had raised him so high in his uncle’s esteem. 
She, accordingly, laid her plans, with all the art of an in¬ 
triguing woman, to undermine the character of the boy, in 
the eyes of his uncle ; and, for this purpose, she suborned 
the services of her domestics. 

It would be endless, to repeat the innumerable stories 
that were now daily related to the unsuspecting baronet, 
to the discredit of poor Rowley ; or to describe the incre- 


THE MIDDY. 


195 

'dulity with which the fond uncle at first listened to them. 
“ Constant dropping, however, wears the hardest stone.” 
Sir Hugh, by degrees, became shaken in the confidence 
he had hitherto placed in his nephew ; he next began to 
be suspicious of him ; and, every one knows, that suspi¬ 
cion is apt to throw the shade of guilt, over even the most 
innocent actions. Sometimes, he would openly charge 
the boy with his misconduct; and, when Rowley man¬ 
fully maintained his innocence, Lady Sharman had always 
some ol her domestics at hand, who testified loudly against 
him. This was the worst of all. To be guilty of false¬ 
hood was, in Sir Hugh’s eyes, the most heinous of all 
offences; and, after repeated instances of this kind, he 
became so enraged against his nephew, that, for several 
days, he would not permit him to sit at table. 

Still, however, the boy was the son of his beloved sis¬ 
ter; and he was unwilling to cast him off entirely. He 
was anxious to give him some opportunity of regaining 
his character; and, for this purpose, with the advice of 
his lady, who lamented sadly the defection of the boy, he 
procured him an appointment in the navy, and sent him 
off to sea. 

Rowley, glad to escape from .the half, where his life 
had, of late, been rendered perfectly miserable, entered 
on his new profession with the most eager ardour; and, 
during several successive voyages, he conducted himself 
much to the satisfaction of his superiors. 

Meantime, he was never permitted to revisit the hall. 
No sooner did he return from one cruise, than he found 
himself again appointed, and ordered to sail upon another. 
On board, he was always a great favourite ; his generous 
temper, and daring, reckless disposition, gaining him the 
esteem of every officer under whom he served. 

It so happened, however, that, on board of every ship 
in which he sailed, there chanced to be a confidential 
friend of George Western ; who wrote, from time to time, 
to the hall, giving a shocking account of poor Rowley. 
Each letter contained some fearful instance of his pusil¬ 
lanimity, his treachery, or his want of faith ; and, as this 
correspondence was regularly shown to the baronet, the 
good gentleman became at last so enraged, that he declared 






196 


THE MIDDY. 


“ the boy was not his mother’s son ; that he would never 
see his face again, and that he would cut him off in his 
will with a shilling !” i . 

This was exactly the point at which Lady Sharman 
wished to arrive. She expressed herself extremely sorry 
for the poor boy; but, at the same time, she applauded 
her husband’s resolution, in discarding, for ever, so dis¬ 
reputable an outcast. 

Rowley, totally ignorant of this state of affairs at Shar¬ 
man Hall, had arrived from a three years’ cruise in the 
Mediterranean; and, having first despatched a letter to 
his uncle, intimating his return, and requesting him to get 
him appointed again as soon as possible ; he put himself 
on the top of a stage-coach, and proceeded to the lovely 
village of Eastcourt, which stands in a wood-embosomed 
valley, on the borders of Kent. . 

In one of the most delightful cottages of this delightful 
place, resided Lieutenant Harwood ; the father of one of 
Rowley’s earliest messmates. Though now well ad¬ 
vanced in life, this gentleman had been obliged, on ac¬ 
count of his wounds, to leave the army when very young; 
and he had since lived, with his wife and daughter, in his 
present place of abode. 

Whenever Rowley was on shore, Harwood’s cottage 
was the place of his earliest, and most frequent resort. 
The lieutenant was the father of his dearest friend ; and 
Julia Harwood was one of the most beautiful and accom¬ 
plished girls in England. With the consent of her pa¬ 
rents, he had paid his addresses to her; and, it was 
agreed, that they should be united, whenever his promo¬ 
tion should render such a step prudent. He had already 
gone two voyages as first lieutenant; and he hoped soon, 
by the influence of his uncle, which was considerable, to 
obtain a command. 

He, accordingly, waited impatiently for Sir Hugh’s re 
ply to his last letter; and, on the fifth or sixth day of his 
residence at Eastcourt, he received the following: 

“ Sharman-Hall, Sunday. 

“ Sir, — I got your letter, and write to say that, in con¬ 
sequence of your late disgraceful conduct, you need look 


THE MIDDY. 


197 

for no farther countenance or support from me. There’s 
no use in talking; your own conscience must tell you 
what I mean; and, had I nothing else to complain of, the 
unblushing manner in which you tell me to address this 

to the house of your paramour, would be sufficient._ 

Never let me hear of you again—if you write, your let¬ 
ters shall be returned unopened. 

“ Your abused Uncle, 

“ Hugh S harm an.” 

The first part of this epistle was utterly unintelligible 
to Rowley; but, as he perused the latter part, he trembled 
with agitation. 

“ Would to heaven !” he cried ; as he tore the letter to 
shreds, and trampled it beneath his feet, in a paroxysm of 
rage; “ would to heaven, he were not my uncle, that I 
might call him villain, and, with my sword, wrest the vile 
lie from his heart! But no,” he continued, when he be¬ 
came more calm ; “ his relationship protects him ; and so 
farewell, for the present, to Julia and promotion !” 

As he uttered these words, Lieutenant Harwood en¬ 
tered the room ; and, the circumstances having been ex¬ 
plained to him, with the exception of the imputation which 
the letter contained on the character of his daughter, he 
endeavoured to convince his young friend, that Sir Hugh 
must be labouring under some mistake, and advised him 
to write and ask for an explanation. 

“Never!” cried Rowley, stamping with rage; “I 
would sooner cut my head off!” 

Finding that he could not persuade him to adopt this 
course, Harwood next asked him what he meant to do.— 
But Rowley had not the slightest idea of what he meant 
to do; till, at last, by the advice of his friend, he deter¬ 
mined to apply to the Admiralty in person, and to state 
his services as the ground of his application. He, accord¬ 
ingly, set out for London; but, after hanging on in at¬ 
tendance at the Admiralty for several months, he found 
there was not the slightest chance of his succeeding; and 
he, at length, gave up the pursuit in despair. 

At this juncture, the British government were offering 
a handsome bounty for the colonization of Africa ; and, as 








198 


THE MIDDY. 


this seemed to afford a promising investment for the small 
sum he had saved from his prize-money, Rowley deter¬ 
mined to take advantage of it; intending to return and 
fulfil his engagement to Julia, after having increased his 
little store as much as possible by trade in the colony. 

I have already said, that he was among the emigrants, 
entrusted to the care of the Hesperus, at Algoa Bay.— 
The peculiar nature of the circumstances in which he was 
placed, excited an extreme degree of interest in his favour; 
while the elegance of his manners, and the frankness of 
his general deportment, gained him the good-will of all 
who knew him; especially of our worthy commander ; 
whose eyes were ever open to merit, and whose heart 
was ever alive to misfortune. 

The particulars of his story, as I have above briefly 
narrated them, were communicated to me by himself; 
and the detail of the circumstances attending his own and 
his father’s fate, occupied many a midnight hour in the 
Blue Boar at Canvass Town. Sometimes, he called him¬ 
self “ the doomed,” whom an unseen Destiny had irrevo¬ 
cably fettered to misfortune ; and he never ceased to la¬ 
ment the circumstances which had severed him from his 
profession. 

But brighter days were in store for him ! 





END of vol. 1. 


SIR WALTER SCOTT’S ENTIRE WORKS. 

E. L.-CAREY AND A. HART, 

PHILADELPHIA, 

HAVE JUST PUBLISHED 

A COMPLETE EDITION OF THE WORKS OF 

SIR WALTER SCOTT. 


COMPRISING 


The Waverley Novels, complete. 
Poetical Works, including The 
Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
Border. 

Lives of Swift and Dryden. 
Lives of the Novelists. 

History of Scotland. 


Tales of my Grandfather, Four 
Series. 

Life of Napoleon. 

Essays on Chivalry, Romance, 

SfC. 

Demonology and Witchcraft. 
Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk. 


Sermons, fyc. #c. 


THE WHOLE REVISED AND CORRECTED BY HIMSELF. 


TO WHICH IS ADDED, 

eus iliiifis awhd 

EDITED BY 

J. G. LOCKHART 


Forming the only complete and uniform edition of the writings of 
the “ Magician of the North” ever published in America. 

THE WHOLE COMPRISED 

IN EIGHT LARGE OCTAVO VOLUMES, 

WITH A FINE PORTRAIT ENGRAVED ON STEEL. 


Price, elegantly hound in embossed cloth, and lettered, $20. 

i : 



1 







THE WAVERLEY NOVELS 

cora::px.iiTx:. 

PRICE OKU TEN DOLLARS. 

THE WAVERLEY NOVELS, 

(BEING A PORTION OF THE FOREGOING SERIES.) 

CAN BE HAD SEPARATELY, AND ARE COMPRISED IN 

FOUR LARGE OCTAVO VOLUMES, 

WITH A FINE PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS. 


Waverley, 

Quentin Durward, 

Guy Mannering, 

St. Ronan’s Well, 

Antiquary, 

Redgauntlet, 

Rob Roy, 

The Betrothed, 

Black Dwarf, 

The Talisman, 

Old Mortality, 

W oodstock, 

Heart of Mid Lothian, 

The Highland Widow, 

Bride of Lammermoor, 

Two Drovers, 

Legend of Montrose 

My Aunt Margaret’s Mirror, 

Ivanhoe, 

Tapestried Chamber, 

The Monastery, 

The Laird’s Jock, 

The Abbot, 

Fair Maid of Perth, 

Kenilworth, 

Anne of Gierstein, 

The Pirate, 

Count Robert of Paris, 

Fortunes of Nigel, 

Castle Dangerous, 

Peveril of the Peak, 

The Surgeon’s Daughter, 


Glossary. 

The whole revised and corrected, with explanatory notes , by the 

Author . 


2 











gnm wAiMPsa soohss’s 


POETICAL WORKS, 

COMPLETE 


IN ONE LARGE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 


PRICE, FULL BOUND IN EMBOSSED CLOTH, $2 50 . 

CONTENTS. 


The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border , complete; 

The Lay of the Last Minstrel; Marmion ; 

The Lady of the Lake ; Rokeby ; The Lord of the Isles ; 
Bridal of Triermain ; Harold the Dauntless. 

DRAMAS. 

Halidon Hill; Goetz Von Berlichingen ; Mac Duff's Cross; 

The House of Aspen ; 

The Doom of Devorgoil; Auchindrane. 


©n 1 ©as. 

EMBRACING 

HIS PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE. 

EDITED BY J. G. LOCKHART. 
IN ONE LARGE VOLUME, 8VO. 


3 










SIR WALTER SCOTT’S 

MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WRITINGS. 

IN' TWO VOLUMES, OCTAVO. 

PRICE FIVE DOLLARS, '' 

NEATLY BOUND IN EMBOSSED MUSLIN. 


CONTENTS. 

Paul’s Letters to his Kinsfolk, Life of Napoleon, 

Essay on Chivalry and Romance, History of Scotland, 
Sermons, Life of John Dry den, 

Life of Swift, Demonology and Witchcraft, 

Tales of a Grandfather—Four Series ; 

AND 

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF 


Samuel Richardson, 

Robert Bage, 

Henry Fielding, 

Charlotte Smith, 

Tobias Smollett, 

Sir Ralph Sadler, 

Richard Cumberland, 

John Leyden, * 

Oliver Goldsmith, 

Miss Anne Seward, 

Samuel Johnson, 

Daniel De Foe, 

Laurence Sterne, 

Late Duke of Buccleugh 

Henry Mackenzie, 

and Queensbury, 

Horace Walpole, 

Lord Somerville, 

Clara Reeve, 

King George the Third, 

Mrs. Ann Radcliffe, 

Lord Byron, 

Le Sage, 

The Duke of York, 

Charles Johnstone. 


4 




-- — - 

ADVERTISEMENT TO THE AMERICAN EDITION 

OF THE 

Complete Works of Sir Walter Scott. 

The writings of Walter Scott will be referred to hereafter as 
marking an era in English literature. With a genius expansive 
as the broad field of letters, his was the intellectual capacity to 
master every subject it approached. Familiar with the accumu¬ 
lated knowledge of dead ages, he brought to his task, whatever 
were its nature, a mind richly stored with all that was beautiful 
and apt for illustration, description, or analogy. 

Criticism has failed in its attempt to confine the acknowledged 
superiority of Scott to any distinctive range of subjects. The 
reader who finds surpassing beauty and thrilling pathos in the 
“ Lay” and “ Marmion,” before he records his admiration will 
recall the graphic force and splendid imagery of “ Waverley” and 
“ Ivanhoe.”—Though in the simple and natural sketches of the 
“ Lives of the Novelists,” he becomes entranced by the wizard 
power of the writer, yet will he not forget that the historic page 
which tells of Bruce, or Napoleon, bears an evidence of the 
writer’s genius equally brilliant and enduring. 

Scott’s great and peculiar merit is admitted to be his invincible 
truth to nature. In the regions of poetry and romance, with an 
imagination that never slumbers, and which gives light and life to 
every picture of its creation, there is still a naturalness that wins 
upon the heart, till fiction becomes reality. It is here that the 
magician’s power is felt, though the arm that lifts the wand is un¬ 
seen. On the busy, life-like pages of biography, his deep know¬ 
ledge of human character, and universal benevolence of disposition, 
are alike discernible. Charity tempers the justice of all his infer¬ 
ences, and there is ever a pouring forth of that spirit of kindness 
which “ delights to praise, but falters to condemn.” It is perhaps 
on the graver themes of history, that the triumph of Scott’s genius 
is most remarkable. So irresistible are the charms of style which 
he throws around historical subjects, that what in other hands is 
dry and uninteresting detail, comes from his pen with the force of 
truth, adorned with all the attractive grace of fiction. 

The works of an author like Scott cannot be too extensively 
diffused. No one can rise from the perusal of his writings with- 


5 



ADVERTISEMENT TO SCOTT’S WORKS. 

out having been instructed as well as amused. The cause of reli¬ 
gion, and virtue, and morality, finds an advocate on every page; 
vice will seek encouragement from the same source in vain. 

It has been well observed by an able and eloquent American 
critic, that “ if ever writer deserved universal citizenship, it was Sir 
Walter Scott. He was the poet of nature, the delineator of his 
species in every climate and on every soil; so that, wherever his 
works were known, there was he to be regarded as a native and a 
denizen.” 

It is in this spirit that the publishers, of the American edition of 
Scott’s complete works have undertaken to present them to the 
American people. They have supposed that they could not render 
a better or more acceptable service to the great mass of readers, 
than by placing such a publication within their reach. The revised 
uniform Edinburgh edition, from which this is reprinted, comprises 
eighty-eight volumes, the cost of which is one hundred and twenty- 
five dollars. The American edition now published contains the 
entire matter, with the addition of “ Lockhart's Life of Scott," 
with the latest emendations, in eight octavo volumes, stereotyped, 
and printed on excellent paper. The price of this edition is 
above one hundred dollars less than that of the Edinburgh. 

The text of the “ Life of Napoleon” was revised by Sir Walter 
himself. It contains copious editorial notes, with brief notices of 
many distinguished men who acted a prominent part in the event¬ 
ful wars which followed the French revolution. 

In addition to the likeness of the author, engraved from a paint¬ 
ing by Newton, which accompanies the first volume, will be found 
a beautiful medallion portrait to preface the seventh volume. 

The publication price affixed to this work is less, in reference 
to the quality of materials and style of execution, than that of any 
other production of the press in Europe or America. The invest¬ 
ment and expenditures connected with this undertaking are much 
greater than usually attend a republication; and it will be appa¬ 
rent that the publishers must rely on an extensive sale for their 
remuneration. They appeal with entire confidence to the Ameri¬ 
can public, for a just and liberal support in their endeavours to 
disseminate the means of an enlightened and rational enjoyment. 

E. L. CAREY AND A. HART. 
Philadelphia, October, 1838. 


6 




ADVERTISEMENT TO SCOTT’S WORKS. 


j 

AUTHOR’S 

ADVERTISEMENT. 


Abbotsford , January , 1S29. 

It has been the occasional occupation of the Author of Waver- 
ley, for several years past, to revise and correct the voluminous 
series of Novels which pass under that name; in order that, if 
they should ever appear as his avowed productions, he might ren¬ 
der them in some degree deserving of a continuance of the public 
favour with which they have been honoured ever since their first 
appearance. For a long period, however, it seemed likely that the 
improved and illustrated edition which he meditated, would be a 
posthumous publication. But the course of the events which 
occasioned the disclosure of the Author’s name, having, in a great 
measure, restored to him a sort of parental control over these works, 
he is naturally induced to give them to the press in a correcteu, 
and, he hopes, an improved form, while life and health permit the 
task of revising and illustrating them. Such being his purpose, it 
is necessary to say a few words on the plan of the proposed edition. 

In stating it to be revised and corrected, it is not to be inferred 
that any attempt is made to alter the tenor of the stories, the cha¬ 
racter of the actors, or the spirit of the dialogue. There is, no doubt, 
ample room for emendation in all these points,—but where the tree 
falls it must lie. Any attempt to obviate criticism, however just, 
by altering a work already in the hands of the public, is generally 
unsuccessful. In the most improbable fiction, the reader still de¬ 
sires some air of vraisemblance, and does not relish that the inci¬ 
dents of a tale familiar to him should be altered to suit the taste of 
critics, or the caprice of the author himself. This process of feel¬ 
ing is so natural, that it may be observed even in children, who 
cannot endure that a nursery story should be repeated to them 
differently from the manner in which it was first told. 

__I 

7 


\ 















ADVERTISEMENT TO SCOTT’S WORKS. 

But without altering, in the slightest degree, either the story or 
the mode of telling it, the Author has taken this opportunity to 
correct errors of the press and slips of the pen. That such should 
exist cannot be wondered at, when it is considered that the Pub¬ 
lishers found it their interest to hurry through the press a succes¬ 
sion of the early editions of the various Novels, and that the Au¬ 
thor had not the usual opportunity of revision. It is hoped that 
the present edition will be found free from errors of that accidental 
kind. 

The Author has also ventured to make some emendations of a 
different character, which, without being such apparent deviations 
from the original stories as to disturb the reader’s old associations, 
will, he thinks, add something to the spirit of the dialogue, narra¬ 
tive, or description. These consist of occasional pruning where 
the language is redundant, compression where the style is loose, 
infusion of vigour where it is languid, the exchange of less forcible 
for more appropriate epithets—slight alterations, in short, like the 
last touches of an artist, which contribute to heighten and finish 
the picture, though an inexperienced eye can hardly detect in what 
they consist. 

The general preface to the new edition, and the introductory 
notices to each separate work, will contain an account of such cir¬ 
cumstances attending the first publication of the Novels and Tales, 
as may appear interesting in themselves, or proper to be commu¬ 
nicated to the public. The Author also proposes to publish, on 
this occasion, the various legends, family traditions, or obscure 
historical facts, which have formed the groundwork of these 
Novels, and to give some account of the places where the scenes 
are laid, when these are altogether, or in part, real; as well as a 
statement of particular incidents founded on fact; together with a 
more copious glossary, and notes explanatory of the ancient cus¬ 
toms and popular superstitions referred to in the Romances. 

Upon the whole, it is to be hoped that the Waverley Novels, in 
their new dress, will not be found to have lost any part of their 
attractions in consequence of receiving illustrations by the Author, 
and undergoing his careful revision. 


8 





Philadelphia , 1838 


LIBRARY OF STANDARD NOVELS. 


E. L. CAREY & A. HART 


Have recently published cheap and beautiful editions of the 
works of the following highly popular authors. Various 
other volumes are in preparation, and the series, when completed, 
will form a library of novels unsurpasseb in beauty and 
cheapness; each work embellished with a fine portrait, engraved 
expressly for this edition. 


The complete Works of 

CAPTAIN MARRYAT, 


In One Volume, 8vo. 

COMPRISING 


Jacob Faithful, 
The Naval Officer, 
Newton Forster, 
The King’s Own, 
Peter Simple, 


Japhet in Search of his Father, 
The Pirate and Three Cutters, 
Pacha of Many Tales, 

Mr. Midshipman Easy, 
Snarleyyow. 


IS W Ha IS ISi 


.o 


The Novels of 


E. L. B U L W E R, 


In One Volume, 8vo. 


CONSISTING OF 


Falkland, 

Pelham, 

Disowned, 

Devereux, 


Paul Clifford, 

Eugene Aram, 

Last Days of Pompeii, 
Rienzi. 














COMPLETE 

IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO, WITH PORTRAIT. 

COMPRISING 

Vivian Grey, Tale of Alroy, 

Young Duke, Rise of Iskander, 

Contarini Fleming, Henrietta Temple, 

Venetia. 


COMPLETE WORKS, 

IN ONE YOXUME, OCTAVO, WITH PORTRAIT. 


COMPRISING 


The Two Friends, 

The Repealers, 
Confessions of an Elderly 
Gentleman, 


Confessions of an Elderly 
Lady, 

Victims of Society, 
Conversations of Lord Byron, 


Gems of Beauty, fyc. $c. 


MISS LANDON’S COMPLETE WORKS. 

IN ONE VOLUME, 8yO., WITH A PORTRAIT. 

CONSISTING OF 

PROSE. POETRY. 

Romance and Reality, The Improvisatrice, 

Francesca Carrara, The Troubadour, 

Traits and Trials of Early Life, Venetian Bracelet, 

Ethel Churchill, Golden Violet, 

Book of Beauty. Vow of the Peacock, 4*c. fyc. 


10 






NOTICES OF 

THE LIBRARY OF STANDARD NOVELS. 


“ The praise of Miss Landon has been in all the literary circles, since the 
publication of the ‘ Improvisatrice,’ in 1824. Her Poems placed her in the 
first rank of her contemporaries, and her Novels have fully sustained this 
enviable reputation. The publishers have done her full justice in this ele¬ 
gant edition of her works, which adds one more volume to their series of 
complete works of popular authors, making thirteen volumes in all; and 
comprehending the works of Bulwer, Marryat, D’Israeli, Lady Blessington, 
and Sir Walter Scott;—the last in eight volumes, royal octavo, to correspond 
with the others. What a library of light and solid reading ! What an ever¬ 
lasting fund of entertainment for one who lives on his plantation, and has 
much spare lime!”— Messenger. 

“One of the handsomest books of the day is that embracing the complete 
works of L. E. L., which has just been published by Carey and Hart. The 
admirers of that gifted lady—and she has them by thousands—will be pleased 
to possess this most various volume.”— Philad. Gazette. 

“ The writings of this accomplished lady are too highly and too generally 
esteemed to render necessary a word of commendation from us. We may 
say, however, that the publishers have done their share of the work well.”— 
U. S. Gazette. 


THE AMERICAN BOZ. 

OHIaIL S5!'ll?@ESS* 

B Y 

JOSEPH C. HEAL. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY D. C. JOHNSTON. 


“We do not hesitate to say—and a perusal of the work before us will fully 
sustain the assertion—that in all those cunning attributes ‘ which involve a 
design upon the risibles of the public,’ Mr. Neal stands on equal ground with 
that autnor (Boz) in whose praise the realm of England rings from side to 
side.”— Philad. Gazette. 

“ It is made up of a series of off-hand sketches of real life, which, for 
humour, nature, and graphic force, are, we venture to assert, equal to the 
best passages of the celebrated Pickwick papers. Several of these sketches 
are indeed inimitable. Nothing superior in the same style is to be found in 
modern English literature.”— Pennsylvania Inquirer. 

“ This volume is a right merry production, from the pen of J. C. Neal, who 
peculiarly excels in that most difficult path of literature—the humorous. The 
engravings with wh;cn it is enriched, are ‘Charcoal Sketches’ of no common 
character. They are truly racy and laughable.”— Saturday Courier. 

“ A collection of sketches humorously delineated and dashed off in a style 
of pleasantry from a spirited pen.”— Public Ledger. 

“ The ‘ Sketches’ are so graphic, and at the same time so quaint, that the 
illustrations, though sufficiently well executed, add little or nothing to the 
value of the tome.”— Com. Herald. 

“ We have a perfect recollection of there being such a man as Dickens; 
and we like ‘B<>z’ as well as others, but Neal is nis superior; and we care 
not who laughs at us for saying so. There is nothing in the raciest page of 
the Pickwick to equal some quaint, and quiet, and exquisite touches of Neal’s 
‘ City Worthies.’ ”— N. Y. Gazette. 

“ The most original work of the day. It is a Pocket Encyclopaedia of 
honest, sensible fun; free from the remotest taint of vulgarity, but rich in 
fanciful and ludicrous conceits.”— Gentleman's Magazine. t 


11 















AMERICAN COOKERY. 

sdjebss®™®®?® sfcds (^©©iKiEEsr©;, 

IN AIX ITS BRANCHES. 

FOURTH EDITION, MUCH ENLARGED AND IMPROVED. 

3W ME®© ILIEiJEJni^ 

AUTHOR OF “SEVENTY-FIVE RECEIPTS.” 


“ This is the most complete manual of cookery which has yet been pub¬ 
lished. It contains a large number of receipts, many of them original, in all 
the branches of the culinary art, set forth with a simplicity and plainness 
that must prevent all difficulty or misunderstanding. All the processes of 
preparing meats, vegetables, and pastry ; all the mysteries of cakes and con¬ 
fectionary ; all the secrets of the dishes which have a thousand times delighted 
our palate and puzzled our brain, are here laid open to every one who chooses 
to pry into them ; and every housewife who is furnished with this key may 
provide her table with a variety of delicacies which heretofore have been 
thought inaccessible, but through the skill of professed cooks.”— Sat. News. 

“This volume contains the art of cooking, preparing, and carving the 
whole list of eatables from the egg to the apple. The book is a perfect Vade 
Mecum for the housekeeper, and we should think would be in demand for 
the soundness of its culinary doctrine, and the simplicity of its precepts.”— 
U. S. Gazette. 

“ Miss Leslie has presented an excellent work to American housewives. 
Nothing has been incorporated but what will, by the generality of tastes, be 
considered good of its kind. The various matters are also arranged under dis¬ 
tinct heads, forming a ready manual to turn to on all occasions.” —Sat. News. 

“Every parent should insist on his daughter being able to quote page and 
line from Miss Leslie’s book. The literature and science of cookery open a 
new path to fame that can never be broken up or destroyed. We repeat that 
it should be a mother’s duty to make it a daughter’s study .”—Saturday Morn¬ 
ing News. 


HEALTH AND BEAUTY. 


AN EXPLANATION 

OF THE 

LAWS OF GROWTH AND EXERCISE, 

THROUGH WHICH A PLEASING CONTOUR, SYMMETRY OF FORM, AND GRACEFUL 
CARRIAGE OF THE BODY, ARE ACQUIRED ; AND THE COMMON 
DEFORMITIES OF SPINE AND CHEST PREVENTED. 

BY JOHN BELL, BX.Q. 

IN ONE VOLUME, 18m0. 


“ A volume full of practical detail and most practical advice.”— U. S Gaz. 

“ We want language sufficiently strong to commend this volume as it should 
be commended, to the notice of parents, teachers, and heads of families. A 
statement made by one of the best surgeons in Boston shows that a large pro¬ 
portion of the young ladies who grow up to womanhood are affected w?th the 
curvatureof the spine, arising from the neglect of the very laws which Dr. Bell’s 
volume explains and inculcates. Parents are not deficient in affection for 
their offspring; but they do not think of these things. They neglect them 
wholly from never having their attention properly directed to the subject. 
We say then to all parents, If you would preserve the health and beauty of 
your offspring, read Dr. Bell’s book.”— Weekly Messenger. 


12 










E. L. CAREY AND A. HART. 


ELEMENTARY 

PRINCIPLES OF CARPENTRY. 

A Treatise on the Pressure and Equilibrium of Timber 
Framings, the Resistance of Timber, and the Construction of 
Floors, Roofs, Centre Bridges, &c.; with Practical Rules and 
Examples. To which is added an Essay on the Nature and 
Properties of 'Timber, including the Methods of Seasoning, and 
the Causes and Prevention of Decay, with Descriptions of the 
Kinds of Scantlings of Timber for different Purposes, the specific 
Gravities of Materials, &c. Illustrated by twenty-two engravings 
and several wood cuts. 

BY THOMAS TREDGOLD, Civil Engineer. 

“This work forms an excellent elementary manual for the carpenter, as 
well as a valuable book of reference for the architect or engineer. 

“The principles laid down by Mr. Tredgold, relating to that branch of 
the art which is particularly directed to the support of pressure, are all 
founded upon the immutable laws of mechanics, and explained with great 
perspicuity. The strength of various kinds of timber to resist tension, com¬ 
pression, or cross strains, is fully investigated, and copious tables are given, 
exhibiting the results of experiments on the strength and cohesion of almost 
every description of wood. 

“ One of the most important divisions of the work is that which is devoted 
to the investigation of the nature and properties of timber. Many of the 
curious and interesting facts connected with the growth of trees are men¬ 
tioned, and much valuable information is furnished on the subject of felling 
and seasoning timber, the prevention of decay and dry rot, and the durability 
of wood in different situations .”—Journal of the Franklin Institute. 


CORINNE. 

BY MADAME DE STAEL. 
Two Volumes, 12mo. 


BEAUTIES OF THE COURT 

OF 

CHARLES THE SECOND. 

BY MRS. JAMESON. 

Author of “ Characteristics of Women.” 









NEW BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 


DELPHINE. 

BY MADAME DE STAEL. 
Three Volumes, 12mo. 


MILMAJH 5 © IFEUEKTOIBI ©HlAMMAIIlc 

A THEORETICAL AND PRACTICAL 

GRAMMAR OF THE FRENCH TONGUE. 

IN WHICH THE PRESENT USAGE IS DISPLAYED AGREEABLY TO THE 
DECISIONS OF THE FRENCH ACADEMY. 

BY M. DE LEVIZAC. 

With numerous Corrections and Improvements, and with the 
Addition of a complete Treatise on the Gender of 
French Nouns; as also with the Addition 
of all the French Verbs, both 
regular and irregular, 

&c. &c. 

BY A. B O L M A R. 

Fifth Edition, corrected. 


CONVERSATIONS ON VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, 

COMPREHENDING THE ELEMENTS OF BOTANY, WITH THEIR APPLI¬ 
CATION TO AGRICULTURE. 

By the Author of “ Conversations on Chemistry.” 
Adapted to the use of schools, 

BY JOSEPH L. BLAKE. 


JOURNAL OF A VOYAGE IN 

SEARCH OF CAPTAIN ROSS. 

In One Volume, 8vo. 











NEW BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 


MMo wAmmps hhw w®miSo 

FIELDING; or, SOCIETY. 

By the Author of “ Tremaine,” and “ De Vere.” 

In Three Volumes, 12mo. 

“Mr. Ward has produced an extraordinary work ; Fielding is not a novel, 
and certainly cannot be termed a romance; it is a recolement of the practical 
philosophy of a cosmopolite. The experience of an observation hunter—an 
analysis of human nature, by a strong-minded man, detailed with much con¬ 
versational spirit and logical effect. There are two divisions in the work, 
but Mr. Ward has not employed the agency of a pilot to connect his illus¬ 
trations of society and life; or the developement of his category of super¬ 
natural influences. Fielding will be more generally perused than either of 
Mr. Ward’s former productions. The Christian moralist and philosopher 
will find matter equally valuable—and the attention of the general reader 
will be attracted by the variety and spice of the anecdotal illustrations, 
which were not suffered to enlighten the didactics of Tremaine or De 
Vere.”—Burton’s Gentleman’s Magazine. 

“Mr. Ward’s reputation is high as a didactic novelist. He is at the head 
of a class in which he has few imitators, and into which none can enter 
but men of consummate ability and wide reaching experience. His novels 
are not so much pictures of society, as practical expositions of human 
character.” 

“In Fielding we have a perfect picture of a profound thinker. The pro¬ 
gress and history of his nnnd is a fine conception admirably executed.”— 
La Belle Assemble. 

“A most delightful work, abounding, like Tremaine, in beautiful descrip¬ 
tions, and like De Vere, in strong and lively pictures of human character, 
in the different varieties of life.”— Messenger. 

“ It deserves a wide circulation.”— Athenceum. 

“ This book will be read a second, nay, a third time, with increased 
pleasure .”—Dublin Evening Packet. 


IL^TW WOKIEo 

WOMAN AND HER MASTER. 

BY LADY MORGAN. 


THE DIVORCED. 

BY THE LADY CHARLOTTE BURY. 
Authoress of “ Flirtation,” &c. 

In Two Volumes, 12mo. 

“ This new novel is one of the most effective of Lady Bury’s productions. 
The story is powerfully and admirably told, and it seems to us that not only 
is it founded on facts, but that the characters are chiefly drawn from the 
life .”—John Bull. 











NEW BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 


SKETCHES OF PARIS. 

In One Volume, 12mo. 


TPjoUOfTL TDlJiS la£@@la£o 

ANDREW THE SAVOYARD. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF 

PAUL DE KOCK. 

The following is extracted from a very able article which appeared in the 
Foreign Quarterly Review : 

“ The name of Paul de Kock is probably known to few of our readers, and 
yet he is a highly popular author, within two days’ journey of our capital. 
During a year or two past, he has been the prolific parent of almost innu¬ 
merable volumes, which have received a warm reception from his country¬ 
men, and are every day being multiplied in new editions. It is worth while 
to inquire, what is this which pleases our neighbours so much? We wish 
we could communicate to our readers a tithe of the amusement that inquiry 
has atforded us. Where Peregrine Pickle is a welcome guest, the society of 
Paul de Kock will be enjoyed. Humour is not the only characteristic of our 
author; he has another virtue, the truth of his pictures of life and society— 
the absolute nature of his pieces of conversation and character.” 


THE GOOD FELLOW. 

FROM THE FRENCH OF 

PAUL D E KOCK. 

“ The work now before us is one of those pleasing and instructive tales for 
which that highly gifted author is so celebrated, and fully maintains his 
already high reputation. We think it a valuable work to put into the hands 
of children, and not less worthy the attention of young men ; it is well cal¬ 
culated to instruct and amuse ; and to all our young friends we recommend 
a perusal of the Good Fellow.”— Baltimore Gazette. 


MIHii 

PRETENSION. 

A NOVEL. 

BY MISS STICKNEY. 

Two Volumes, 12mo., with a beautiful plate. 

“ This is one of those enchanting tales of modern life, which, like Crabbe’s 
Poems, and Hogarth’s Pictures, delight by their reality and minuteness of 
effect.”— Burton's Gentleman's Magazine. 

“ It certainly has ‘ Pretension’ to rank among the interesting and instruc¬ 
tive literature of the day.”— U. S. Gazette. 

“ The characters are nobly drawn, and the whole story is of that absorbing 
nature which enchains the attention of the reader, as he finishes each 
page.”— Ladies' Companion. 







E. L. CAREY AND A. HART. 


^©M OTXQpo 

THE COMPLETE 

WORKS OF THOMAS HOOD. 

In One Volume, 8vo. 

WITH A PORTRAIT. 

COMPRISING 

The Comic Annual complete, Whims and Oddities, 

Hood’s Own, Tylney Hall, 

Facetiae, National Tales, &c. 

WITH NEARLY ONE HUNDRED HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATIONS. 

It would be difficult to find in the language a volume contain¬ 
ing a greater amount of drollery, or one better calculated to 
drive away the blue devils. Let all hypochondriacs throw away 
their physic, and in lieu of it take a dose of T. OM HOOD, and 
the cure is certain. 

©w 

THE STEAM ENGINE 

FAMILIARLY EXPLAINED AND ILLUSTRATED. 

WITH AN HISTORICAL SKETCH OF ITS INVENTION AND PROGRESSIVE 
IMPROVEMENTS: ITS APPLICATION TO NAVIGATION 
AND RAILWAYS. 

BY DIONYSIUS LARDNER. 

With Additions and Notes, 

BY JAMES RENWICE. 

With numerous Plates. 

CELEBRATED TRIALS, 

IN 

ALL AGES AND COUNTRIES. 

In One Volume, 8vo. 

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMM0NT. 

BY HAMILTON. 

In One Volume, 8vo. 








NEW BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 


MATHEMATICS FOR PRACTICAL MEN; 

BEING 

A COMMON-PLACE BOOK 

OF PRINCIPLES, THEOREMS, RULES AND TABLES, IN VARIOUS 

DEPARTMENTS OF 

PURE AND MIXED MATHEMATICS, 

With their applications; especially to the pursuits of Surveyors, 
Architects, Mechanics, and Civil Engineers. 

WITH NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS. 

BY OLINTHUS GREGORY, LL.D., F.R.A.S. 

SECOND EDITION, CORRECTED AND IMPROVED. 

In One Volume, 8vo. 

“ Only let men awake, and fix their eyes, one while on the nature of 
things, another w hile on the application of them to the use and service of 
mankind.”— Lord Bacon. 

Extract of a Letter from Walter R. Johnson, Professor of Me¬ 
chanics and Natural Philosophy in the Franklin Institute. 

“ This treatise is intended and admirably calculated to supply the defi¬ 
ciency in the means of mathematical instruction to those who have neither 
time nor inclination to peruse numerous abstract treatises in the same de- 
parments. It has, besides the claims of a good elementary manual, the 
merit of embracing several of the most interesting and important depart¬ 
ments of Mechanics, applying to these the rules and principles embraced 
in the earlier sections of the work. 

‘•Questions in Statics, Dynamics, Hydrostatics, Hydro-dynamics, &c. are 
treated with a clearness and precision which must increase the powers of 
the student over his own intellectual resources by the methodical habits 
which a perusal of such works cannot fail to impart. 

“ With respect to Engineering, and the various incidents of that important 
profession, much valuable matter is contained in this volume; and the results 
of many laborious series of experiments are presented with conciseness and 
accuracy.” 


SNARLEYYOW; 


JR D - 


OR, 


4 3f 

CAPT 


DOG FIEND. 

AIN MARRYAT. 

v ^ * 

In Two Volumes. 


“ Not inferior to any of Captain Marryat’s previous works, Peter Simple 
alone excepted. It is grotesque and humorous from beginning to end.”— 
Athenaeum. 

“ This work is in a completely new style; and full of character and spirit 
it is. The dash of historic character gives great effect to the wild and ani¬ 
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“ The Captain, whether on sea or on shore, is equally in his element. 
His dog and his Dutchman are amiable counterparts of each other; the 
dog being a Dutchman on four legs, and the Dutchman a dog on two.”— New 
Monthly. 










































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